


Catch Me If You Can

by MrsMCrieff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Oral Sex, Post Season Four, SAMFA 2017 double first place award winner, Serial Killers, Sex, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMCrieff/pseuds/MrsMCrieff
Summary: A post season 4 story. It's six months on from the events in The Final Problem but Sherlock is still struggling with his feelings. He needs a distraction so what better than a serial killer. A slow burn Sherlolly. Rated for eventual smut. This is a double SAMFA 2017 winner for best M/E Adventure and best M/E Mystery.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OK I'm going to be completely honest about this fic. It was mostly written before season 4 but following the last three, amazing, roller-coaster episodes I have adapted it to be post season 4. I hope it works and gets us back into the groove of a slow burn case based Sherlolly.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it.

There was a serial killer in London and Sherlock couldn't help the frisson of excitement that ran down his spine and settled low in his gut as he contemplated it. He also strongly suspected that at this exact moment, bar the killer, he was the only person that knew and he almost wanted to keep the secret to himself except he knew he shouldn't.

One thing he did know was how much he needed this distraction. Post the whole emotionally wrought episode where he had learnt all about his sister and what she had done it had been a long, boring winter and as Spring had sprung he had been forced to take on cases which in better times he wouldn't have even given a second glance to. He'd even, over Easter, undertaken some work on behalf of his brother; partly to repay him for everything they had gone through together but mostly to give him something to do, anything to exercise his brain and take away that itch that tried to persuade him that one more hit of drugs wouldn't matter. It wasn't that he was particularly bothered for himself but John was still going on about his habit over five months later and he couldn't bear to have it all brought back up again.

Mycroft's case had taken him to the Middle East and he'd had to spend a day perfecting his Arabic before flying out but in the end it had only filled a fortnight of his time rather than the month his brother had promised. Mycroft was getting slow in his old age, missing more; too many cakes and not enough brain work.

But here he was with the evidence of a murder laid out in front of him in his own front room and he knew absolutely that this wasn't the first killing and nor would it be the last. Oh yes he rubbed his hands together in glee, here was a case worth getting dressed for.

Ten minutes later and, following his shower, he was in his room dressing when he heard an exclamation from the front room that had him rolling his eyes.

'Sherlock, these photos, really...'

'Leave them alone Mrs Hudson,' he shouted as he hurried to get back out before she disturbed them.

He was still buttoning up his cuffs as he exited his bedroom to find his landlady placing a tray of tea and toasted muffins onto a corner of the cluttered kitchen table.

He had to admit she did look a little pale after seeing the pictures and he moved forward to help relocate some of his experiments.

'Sherlock,' she remonstrated, 'they're not nice. Why have you got them here?'

'Where else should they be Mrs Hudson?' He said smiling as he took her shoulders and started to guide her out of his flat.

She pursed her lips as she looked back at him, 'you've got a new case haven't you? I can always tell. Well, I'm glad. I don't think my poor walls could have taken much more of your boredom, you'd never know they were newly decorated. Anyway, make sure you eat your breakfast and give my love to Molly.'

This stopped him in his tracks, 'Molly, why Molly?'

Well you'll be going to Barts won't you?'

'Yes, I suppose so,' he said slowly, the confusion clear in his voice. He felt as though there were some clue that he was missing somehow.

'Well then, give Molly my best. She's a lovely girl. You could do a lot worse than her and she likes you. Mind you she won't wait forever; you need to snap her up.'

Once again Sherlock found himself rolling his eyes, it was just Mrs Hudson matchmaking him as ever. At least she'd finally stopped trying to pair him up with John but for a moment there he thought that someone must have told her about that phone call.

Even after all this time he could still hardly bear to even think about it; how he had been forced to say those words to Molly. It had all been thoroughly explained to her by John and backed up by Mycroft and through it all Sherlock had kept quiet. He couldn't explain his feelings to himself so how on earth could he explain them to her. So instead he had said nothing and they had fallen back into their old routines. It was comfortable, familiar and it had been what he needed after finding out about his sister. He hadn't been ready for anything else.

He poured himself some tea and absent-mindedly picked at one of the muffins whilst he went back to his chair. He reviewed the evidence he had so far; three Polaroid photographs and an envelope.

He'd known as soon as it had arrived in the morning post that this was something different. He'd snapped on some latex gloves and held the unopened package up to the light as he'd given it his full attention. The envelope itself was cheap; the sort sold in hundreds of newsagents and stationery shops. His name and address was printed using a home printer, a laser jet, and a stamp had been used rather than a franking machine.

Everything pointed to bland obscurity. Whoever had sent this wanted to give him as few clues as possible. He suspected that when he checked the stamp glue and the envelope seal that they would prove to be moistened with tap water rather than saliva but even that could potentially help him to narrow down a location.

He wasn't too concerned with the postmark on the envelope. It was a London depot but could easily have been posted there to throw him off the scent. No, the real clues came from the photos and yes, Mrs Hudson was right; that did mean a visit to Barts,

As he sat in the cab on his way there he texted John to see if he was available to meet up with him. Between John's new locum work at a local surgery and being a single father to Rosie he hadn't been as available as Sherlock would have liked. That might all change with a new case though.

The cab pulled up in front of the familiar, old hospital and Sherlock quickly handed the driver twenty pounds, waving off the change. He was well known in the local cabbing community as being a good tipper and it was the main reason why there was always a cab available when he hailed one.

His mood was buoyant as he entered the hospital and rose even higher as he made his way down to the morgue where he fully expected to find Molly. This time of the day she was bound to be conducting one of the many autopsies that took place here, and hopefully she would have some free time after to assist him with some tests. He tried to ignore the voice that told him there were more personal reasons why he liked seeing her.

There was so much he wanted to get started with. He glanced at his watch; Lestrade should be here any minute. He almost resented involving Scotland Yard but knew that Greg wouldn't be happy if he had delayed in informing him. He also wanted to get his homeless network in on the thing. But first he needed to give the photograph a full forensic examination.

'Morning Sherlock, have you come to check on your experiments? I don't think there's...oh...what's happened?'

He looked up sharply at the change in her voice, puzzled again at how she always read his mood so easily.

She had paused in her work; goggles on splattered with blood and gore, a circular saw in one hand, the other holding the top of the skull where she had been midway through removing it. She awaited his response looking pensive, a small frown marring her features. He had a sudden urge to use his thumb to smooth out her forehead not wanting to see her worry.

He shook his head slightly, blaming Mrs Hudson for igniting such sentimentality within him. 'We have a body to find Molly. How much longer do you think you'll be?'

She looked down at her unfortunate victim. 'I can be done in about twenty minutes. I'll meet you up in the path lab.'

'Perfect,' he gave her one of his genuine smiles. He tried hard never to be insincere with Molly anymore; she had proved herself to him over and over again and even with all his emotional confusion the one thing he was absolutely certain of when it came to her was that he respected her.

He swung around, making sure to let his coat swirl in the way he knew that she liked, and plunged out through the double doors.

Lestrade arrived in the lab just as Sherlock was pulling on a new pair of latex gloves before he handled the photographs. He didn't think there would be any prints aside from postal workers on the envelope but he had to be thorough, he had to check.

'What have you got for us then Sherlock?' Asked Lestrade as he walked in with a grumpy looking Donovan trailing behind him.

Sherlock's eyes flicked over to them, taking in all those small clues that other people just didn't seem to see, the dirt on Greg's trousers which told him he'd taken the tube into work, the outfit which told him Donovan was going for an interview that day and was nervous about it, checking her watch twice already in less than a couple of minutes. At least she had stopped calling him freak since he'd been exonerated of all Moriarty's accusations though she'd never gone so far as to apologise to him. He knew she still didn't like him but he didn't care about that.

He gestured to the items he was laying out in front of him. As Lestrade and Donovan came over to look he described how they had arrived in the post that morning.

'Fucking hell Sherlock!' Was the sole, initial response from the Detective Inspector with a long low whistle from Donovan.

'Well, there's no doubting she's dead, any idea as to where or when this might have happened? Is this a recent murder or just evidence of something historic?'

Sherlock pointed to a paper, just visible in the top right of one of the photos, and he passed over his small retractable magnifying glass, 'Sunday's paper, going by the headlines, so the pictures are less than 72 hours old. I need Molly to confirm it but the body looks fairly fresh to me, so it looks as if the murder took place on or around the same time.'

He continued, 'she looks to be about twenty to twenty two, working as a prostitute though in the poorer end of the market. Her clothes, what remains of them, are cheap, mass produced. Her fingernails are unkempt, long term nail biter, no manicure which is unusual nowadays. I'd say she was new to the trade, maybe a runaway or someone who moved to London with aspirations which quickly faded.'

Lestrade wiped a hand over his face and turned away. 'Fine, we can check our lists and see if anyone matches the description. Don't suppose you know where the killer will dump the body?'

'Probably the Thames. He's clever, he's done this before and he'll know that the water will eradicate a lot of the evidence. We need to cross-reference any similar, unsolved murders. This isn't the first time he's killed.'

Lestrade shook his head and took a deep breath. He spoke at the same time as Sherlock, their voices overlapping, 'I hate serial killers!' 'Serial killers, I love a good serial killer!' Sherlock clapped his gloved hands together with glee and turned back to work on his tests oblivious to the look of disbelief which passed between Lestrade and Donovan as they made their way out of the lab.

Twenty minutes later and bang on time Molly joined him, bringing with her two cups of coffee. She set his down on his right and observed him whilst she sipped on her own. He could almost feel her eyes travelling over his body, as they always did, and just like always he ignored it. He knew how she felt about him, after that phone call it couldn't be ignored, and he knew she found him physically appealing but it was irrelevant, all aspects of sex were irrelevant. It was the mind that mattered, the rest was just transport.

He sighed a little, it didn't matter how many times he repeated that line to himself it didn't seem to make it a truth any easier to bear or believe.

Within a couple of seconds she moved over to view the photos of the dead girl. 'So this is your latest case then? No body yet?'

He finally looked up meeting her eye. 'Yes and no, the photos came in the post. I've checked for fingerprints but unsurprising there aren't any; now I'm checking the envelope glue and stamp for any liquid residue. It's too much to hope for any saliva but tap water would at least help us to place the killer if not the crimes.'

Molly put down her cup. 'So, how can I help?'

'I need you to review the photographs, tell me what you can about the injuries, mode of death, time since death. Anything you can.'

He couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion at the companionship he felt with her as between them they set to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, you're on board with me. Thank you. I have to say I'm loving all the gifs and fics and videos referencing the 'I love you'. I think we're going to be exploring all the Sherlolly possibilities for months to come...can't wait.

Molly picked up the magnifying glass and studied each of the pictures in turn reciting any details as she saw them as though she were conducting an autopsy and speaking into her recorder. She knew Sherlock was taking in everything she said even as he continued with his work.

When she commented that two of the injuries had been inflicted post mortem rather than before death he stopped what he was doing and came over to see for himself. He leant over her shoulder and for a moment she felt herself holding her breath. She became hyper-aware of his proximity to her and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest so hard that she wondered for a moment if he'd be able to hear it.

She remonstrated with herself internally. How was it that even after all these years of knowing him and working alongside him that she could still find herself responding to him so physically?

If he noticed anything he didn't mention it. He was always respectful around her nowadays. He never gave false compliments, never tried to overtly manipulate her. It wasn't his fault that she wanted so much more from him. They were friends, good friends, she knew without doubt that he cared for her but that was all.

I love you she had to close her eyes for a moment and concentrate on her breathing as the memory of his voice came back to her. It was a refrain that seemed to play on a loop in her mind whenever he was close. She knew why he had said it but her head knowing it and her heart dwelling on it were two separate things. Part of her wished she could delete it from her mind; it had seemed so real, so heart felt, and she believed it was but it was love for her as a friend and not the way she had wanted it to be.

He listened to what she had to say and took the photo in question, along with the magnifying glass before agreeing that yes some of the cut marks had been inflicted after death.

'Is it important?' She asked.

He frowned and leant against the table at the side of her. 'I'm not sure. Injuries after death are certainly less normal. More often it happens when the victim is known to the killer, where there is some emotional aspect. We'll be able to gather more when the body comes to light.'

'And how are your tests coming on?'

He sighed. 'Not good. I suspect he has even gone to the length of using bottled water to wet the glue.'

He glanced at his watch and then at Molly before smiling. 'Your shift finished half an hour ago Molly. You didn't have to stay and help me.'

'I know, but it's OK. I wanted to.'

'No plans for tonight then?'

'No, not tonight.'

He cast his gaze over her and she knew he was deducing her. It was so second nature that she wondered if he even realised he was doing it. At least she didn't have to hold her breath in case of any scathing remarks...not any more.

For a moment he narrowed his eyes and she saw his tongue come out and wet his lips. He never seemed to have any idea how attractive he was or how sexy some of his movements and mannerisms were.

'You have a new boyfriend then Molly.'

It was a statement rather than a question but she blushed and nodded.

'I do hope he isn't a psychopath, you know they aren't good for you.' He pushed off the table and started to go back to his own seat.

She chuckled. 'No, he's fine. Just an electrician, we met when he came to install a new circuit breaker for the flats.' She looked over at Sherlock but he was already lost in his tests and not paying her attention anymore.

She shrugged and made her way to her office to finish up for the day.

Ten minutes later and she was making her way out of the building and trying to decide what she fancied for her dinner when she heard the sound of someone running behind her. She looked around to see Sherlock just catching up to her, his coat billowing behind him.

'Molly, I thought I might catch you. Lestrade just texted, the body has been found; it washed up just east of Blackwall Yards. Come on.'

He took her elbow to hurry her along as they made their way out of a side door of the hospital.

'Hang on, so why am I coming along?'

He looked down at her in bemusement, 'John's busy and you said you had no plans. You also said you didn't mind helping me, so...'

She smiled and shook her head. 'Alright, I'll come but I'm not carrying out another autopsy today. It'll have to wait until tomorrow.'

'Fine; I'm sure we'll get enough from the scene to keep me going.' He flagged a cab and waited whilst one turned around before gesturing to Molly to enter the cab before him.

She did, scooching her way along the seat, feeling a flicker of excitement at joining Sherlock on one of his investigations. It had to have been a year since she'd spent time with him alone outside of Barts and she'd missed it. The last time she'd been with Tom. Thinking of him gave her qualms all over about dating this new guy. She'd broken up with Tom because she was still too in love with Sherlock to commit to someone else. That hadn't changed, and yet here she was embarking on a relationship with Peter...was that really fair?

It was quite a long journey to the crime scene but they chatted easily on the way about everything from the case to John and Rosie, over Sherlock's last visit to his sister with easy silences every so often.

When they finally arrived Molly was disappointed to see a crowd of onlookers trying to see what was going on. The police had had to erect a cordon twenty metres away as well as a tarpaulin shield around the body to block it from the eager gaze and phone cameras of those trying to catch a glimpse of the dead girl. Molly felt a little sickened with her fellow man and commented to Sherlock as they made their way down to the cluster of police staff who were, in Sherlock's opinion destroying any and all relevant evidence around the body. If the girl had been murdered here he would have played merry hell with Lestrade but as it was he just shook his head and listened to Molly before giving his own opinion.

'I don't find their interest particularly surprising. Human nature has always found the grotesque and horrifying fascinating. This is just the modern version of a crowd at a public hanging or other execution.'

Molly shrugged. 'I suppose you're right but I still don't like it, there's nothing fun about death.'

'But you found it fascinating enough to study as a career, is that so much different?'

Molly frowned but found herself a little stuck for an answer. Just as well that she was saved by Lestrade calling them over. 'She was found just under an hour ago by a patrol unit. We'd asked the local units to double-check the shorelines. Anderson suspects she washed up about three hours ago and has been dead about 24 hours.'

Sherlock brushed past, beckoning Molly to follow him. 'Well Anderson's an idiot so forgive me if I don't pay any regard to his opinions. How long has he been back in post?'

'Only two months but you know he's well rated by the rest of the forensic department.'

'And that just confirms my point. They're idiots too.'

He swept the blue tarpaulin to one side and squinted a little under the glare of the spotlights.

Molly walked under his outstretched arm and into the circle of light around the slight frame of the dead girl. She looked so much younger than she had on the photographs. Molly often found this with corpses. The lines and stresses of life fell away in death leaving people often looking much younger than their years. This poor girl looked barely out of her teens.

Immediately Sherlock started to examine the body and Molly found her natural instincts as a pathologist kicking in as she noticed some of the tell-tale indicators that told her the cause of death, the injuries sustained, time in the water. She rattled off her thoughts to Sherlock pointing out her reasonings, answering his questions, losing herself in the work.

By the time they had finished it was late, the dark sky enveloping them as they exited the tarpaulin circle. Most of the crowd had dispersed in boredom and the private ambulance had arrived to remove the girl's body. She was to be taken to Barts and Molly had promised to carry out the full autopsy first thing; still surprised that Sherlock had agreed rather than insisting it be done now.

When she queried it he answered that he had enough detail to go on for now and the formal autopsy would like as not add nothing new to his knowledge.

They sat in the cab back to the centre of town and Molly could feel the tiredness of the day wash over her.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was lost in his own thoughts when they first entered the cab. After about ten minutes he turned his head to ask Molly a question only to find she had fallen asleep. He was about to turn away when he noticed how awkward and uncomfortable she looked. Her neck was at an angle and her forehead was on the cold glass, bumping lightly on it as the driver hit odd ruts and potholes in the overdriven roads.

He wanted to ignore it as he had so often with John but he found he couldn't. He wrestled with himself internally over what to do, arguing that he shouldn't do anything before giving in with a huff. He reached over and pulled her to him so her face rested on his chest and his arm wrapped around her shoulder securing her to him.

It should have felt awkward but it didn't, it felt strangely soothing. He was so rarely physical with anyone, didn't touch or hug much. His mind rapidly told him of all the reports about how important touch was in human development and for emotional stability. Was it so strange that he would be like everyone else and need that basic human contact? It seemed maybe it wasn't.

So he held Molly, enjoying the way she brought her hand up to rest on his shirt as she made herself more comfortable in her sleep. He turned his head back to the view out of the windows and let his mind roam over all the clues he had picked up from the body and his plans once he got back to Baker St. He tried to ignore his irrational feelings of anger about Molly dating again. He'd been feeling it since the moment he'd deduced it in the lab and even with all the developments in the case his mind kept returning to that one irrelevant fact.

Half an hour later and the cab pulled up outside Molly's flat. He put one hand on her face and called her name. Slowly, unwillingly, she opened her eyes meeting his gaze until with a jolt she realised she had been asleep against his chest. She pushed away, her hand automatically wiping at her mouth as if concerned she might have dribbled on him.

'God, I'm so sorry. Did I fall asleep on you?'

He smiled, amused by her mortification. 'No, you fell asleep against the window but it didn't look comfortable so I moved you.'

Her confusion deepened, 'you...you moved me? Why?'

'As I said you didn't look comfortable.' His brow furrowed, 'I do care about you Molly; you...you know I do.'

'I...yes..I know but...well, maybe I still struggle with the idea sometimes. Anyway, thank you and thanks for taking me with you. It's good to get out and see the crime scenes, I don't often get to do that.'

'Anytime Molly. Anyway I must be getting on. Text me once the autopsy is done and I'm sure I'll see you at some point tomorrow.'

She gathered her bag and started to open the door. 'OK, take care...night.'

'Good night Molly.' As she shut the door he gave the driver his address but couldn't shake off the feeling of loss at not having her body pressed against him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back this weekend with another update. Let me know if you like the pace and their inner monologues...I hope you do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your reviews and support. I'm glad you're enjoying getting back to the slow burn Sherlolly. I still love the uncertainty and gradual realisation of feelings even though I truly believe that it is canon that Sherlock loves Molly :).

Molly sleepily made her way up to her flat, greeting a mewing Toby before putting some fresh food and water down for him. It wasn't until she was tucked up in bed that her mind went back to the feeling of waking up in Sherlock's arms. She wished she hadn't been so unconscious and then so shocked and that she'd taken the time to relish it. She could just remember the soft feel of his expensive shirt under her fingers and the divine smell of him; his hand on her face as he spoke her name, low and quiet.

She shivered in the darkness feeling a burst of lust which she tried to wish away. She needed to try to distance herself from her feelings for Sherlock if she wanted to make it work with Peter. She had thought that knowing how he felt about her would allow her to move in from him; she needed to move on from him, but it was to no avail. She fell asleep with Sherlock in her mind and woke gasping and frustrated from a vivid dream which would be X rated in any country.

Feeling tired and groggy she dragged herself into the shower trying to wash away the images in her head of his hands on her body and her mouth on his...well it didn't do any good to dwell on the impossible.

By the time she was dressed and drinking her morning coffee she felt a lot better and ready to face the day. She read the news reports of the body being found and smiled at the one papped photo of Sherlock arriving at the scene with herself just visible behind his shoulder.

Work was as expected. She carried out the autopsy on the girl first thing as she'd promised. She had various injuries and had clearly been raped but the cause of death was garrotting. He'd used a cord of some kind rather than a wire and from the looks of the injury to her neck it had been a violent and prolonged assault.

She had cut marks on her face and torso which had been carried out after death and ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. Molly also found signs of a gag being used and maybe even a blindfold at times. Other than that there were various grazes and bruises consistent with her being man-handled both before and after death.

She took scrapings of the girl's finger nails and blood for later tests and then made sure it was all typed up and sent over to Sherlock and Lestrade by lunchtime. She'd marked the toxicology as urgent and hoped to have those details for them by the end of the working day.

Lunch was a hurried affair with her friend Meena, who was pumping her for information about her new man. She was hoping to see Peter the following night. It would be their third date and so far it had gone well.

'So, third date? Does that mean you're going to sleep with him?'

'What? No...I mean, I don't think so. Should I?'

'Well, only if you want to. You do want to don't you? I mean you must know by now if you find him physically attractive or not; you were raving about him just a couple of days ago so what's changed?'

An image of Sherlock waking her up the night before came to mind and Molly pushed it out of her thoughts. 'No, I mean I do. I just don't know if I'm ready.'

'Girl, you've been ready since you finished with Tom. You must be a walking bag of frustration by now. Just go for it.' She paused and looked at Molly searchingly until Molly shrugged, a spoonful of soup suspended half way to her mouth, 'what?'

'It's him isn't it?'

Molly knew exactly who she meant but tried to play dumb. 'Who?'

'You know who...the detective...the great, puffed up with his own self-importance, Sherlock Holmes. Have you seen him recently or something?'

'Erm...yesterday. He came in about a murder and we went to the site where the body was.'

'I knew it. How does he always manage to fuck things up for you? I swear he does it on purpose.' She put on a mock low voice as though imitating him, 'I know, Molly has a new boyfriend I must make sure she loves and pines after only me.'

Molly scowled. 'That's not fair. He doesn't have a problem with me having boyfriends... unfortunately. I just wish he did, it would show that maybe he cared more...you know, than just as a friend.'

Her friend sighed and covered Molly's hand with her own squeezing it for a moment. 'Oh Molly...it's his loss. He has no idea what he's missing out on.'

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with her normal work and attending the monthly team meeting that Mike ran so they could universally complain about the hospital management and discuss any unusual cases.

Each time the door to the lab or morgue opened Molly found her heart skipping a beat but each time she was disappointed; it wasn't Sherlock. By the time she came to go home she couldn't help the slight feeling of discontentment at not having seen him.

'Get a grip Molly.' She muttered as she made her way to the tube. She hadn't been this bad over him in months, so why now? Maybe Meena was right, maybe she was just frustrated and seeing Sherlock was just making it worse. She should just sleep with Peter and have done with it...get it out of her system. It wasn't as if she didn't fancy Peter because she did. She sent him a text as she walked towards her flat telling him how much she was looking forward to seeing him the following night. It was a boost to her self-esteem when he replied within five minutes saying the feeling was mutual.

An hour later she was just starting to think about her evening meal when she received another text. She swept up her phone expecting to see Peter's name when she saw it was from Sherlock.

**Are you home? SH**

She frowned but replied in the affirmative and then looked around her flat askance. It sounded as though he was on his way and the place was a mess. Her first concern was her washing, complete with knickers, drying on a maiden by the radiator in the front room. It was a matter of moments to move it to the safety of her bedroom then she cleaned away the dirty plates to the kitchen and straightened the papers and cushions. Just as she'd finished the doorbell went and once again her stomach lurched at the thought of seeing him.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock had had quite a productive day and had finished up by heading to Barts to discuss the autopsy with Molly. He was most put out therefore to find she wasn't there.

'Honestly Sherlock, her shift finished nearly two hours ago. What on earth made you think she'd still be here?' Mike said exasperatedly. He honestly didn't know how Molly put up with him as well as she did, it had been a god send when she'd started and Sherlock had switched his demands to her and away from Mike.

'I assumed she'd have waited to discuss the autopsy.'

'Well, for once you assumed wrong. Go home Sherlock, get some food...do whatever it is Consulting Detectives do in their spare time.'

Sherlock just huffed and turned away taking out his phone and texting Molly, as he walked, to see where she was. He felt unreasonably unhappy about her not waiting for him. It was as though no one had time for him anymore. John had once again declined to help him, Lestrade had been curt and even Mrs Hudson had informed him that she'd be out for the evening with one of her many gentleman callers. He contemplated whether he should check that his handcuffs were still where he had left them but then he shuddered slightly; the thought of Mrs Hudson using them was something he'd rather forget.

By the time Molly texted back he was already in a cab on his way to her place, just on the off chance. He smiled and gave further instructions to the cabbie and fifteen minutes later he was standing outside her front door with a large portion of chips in his hand.

She answered the door looking a little flustered but more relaxed given her outfit of brushed cotton pyjama bottoms and an old t shirt. She looked very...he wanted to say homely but the word pretty kept coming front and foremost in his mind. Her hair was down and flowing over her shoulders and she was looking up at him with a puzzled expression on her face. It was that which made him realise she must have asked him something and he just hadn't heard it.

'Sorry, did you say something?'

'Yes, I asked why you were here.'

'Questions about the autopsy and dinner,' he said holding the chips aloft and smiling as though he were a hunter in caveman days bringing home a wild boar. 'Anyway, I thought you might want an update on my progress.'

He hoped that for once she couldn't see him and see the loneliness that he suddenly felt. She didn't appear to, she just shrugged and let him through to her kitchen where she got down two plates and asked him if he wanted something to drink.

'Tea would be fine thanks, unless you're drinking wine, I don't mind a glass of wine.' Internally he frowned wondering where that had come from. It wasn't like him to drink, especially on a case, but there he was five minutes later with a plate of chips and a glass of red wine, sitting on the settee with Molly in her stylish but cosy front room.

It had been a while since he'd been there. He'd used her flat as a bolt hole quite a bit during the whole Magnussen affair, it hadn't been safe keeping the evidence at Baker St given his fake relationship with Janine but that had been quite a while ago, so much had happened since then, and normally when he'd been there Molly hadn't been. This was the first time they had shared a meal and some time together. If he was honest he had avoided being alone with her since...since Eurus had manipulated him; but he'd missed her, he missed this, spending time with her, discussing cases just not being alone.

'So, go on then. How's the case going?'

He leant back into the corner of the settee with one knee tucked up between them, 'good, really good. I texted out pictures of the girl to my homeless network last night and was rewarded this morning by two of them coming forward to say that they knew her.'

'She was Louisa Birbeck, aged twenty. She'd recently moved to London from a small village in the Peak District on the promise of a job in advertising. The problem was the job only lasted three months and then she struggled to find anything else. She didn't want to have to go back home with her tail between her legs, after all her big talk of life in the capital and so she ended up going on the game very much with the view that it would be temporary.'

'Anyway, long story short, she didn't really know what she was doing, she got in with a bad pimp who took most of her earnings, she was selling herself cheaper and cheaper and then went missing during the middle of last week. Seems apparent that she was picked up by the murderer but unfortunately no one saw it happen. She was in one of the seedier parts of town on the basis that she wasn't allowed near the main hunting grounds because her pimp didn't pay his way.'

'I spent the afternoon running down him down and any other acquaintances and then going through her room with Lestrade. I have to say he was in a particularly bad mood today.'

Molly chuckled. 'Why what had you said to him?'

'What makes you think I said anything?'

Molly just raised her eyebrow.

'Well how was I to know that he wasn't aware of his wife's current infidelity? It was written all over him, I assumed he knew.'

Molly smiled at him like an indulgent mother looking at a beloved child. 'Oh Sherlock, when will you ever learn. Now what questions do you have about the autopsy?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to completely rethink the way I see Molly's flat since season 4. I'm my head it was smaller and cosier, it's a difficult head canon to lose. How about you guys? Anyway, I hope you're still enjoying it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first apologies for this chapter being a day late. Work was really busy this week – the culmination of a project that has been running since October so I'm afraid I just ran out of time.

Molly loved listening to Sherlock talking about his day, giving her an insight into the way he worked and his thought processes. It made her feel closer to him. Plus she knew he needed it, he was obviously missing John and very lonely.

She knew from Mrs Hudson though that since Rosie had been born and Mary had died that John was feeling the pressure financially. Their home might be small and cosy but it was still in London and that meant it was a very expensive mortgage. Previously Mary had been working as well but now she was gone he only had one income coming in and things were tight. John had taken on a few extra shifts at work but that meant that between work and time with Rosie he didn't really have time to go gallivanting around town with Sherlock. Molly knew he missed it and she'd babysat more than once to allow him some freedom but she had her own job and life and couldn't always help.

So Molly knew instinctively that that was why Sherlock was here in her sitting room talking about the case and eating his chips; he needed the company. She didn't mind though.

As she finished her food and put her plate down she asked him what queries he had about the autopsy on the girl.

He asked a few questions about the time of death and the time in the water as well as one about the ligature marks on her wrists. 'Can you tell how long she might have been tied up from the marks?'

Molly looked at the photos attached the email she had sent him, to refresh her memory.

'They were tight,' she gestured for Sherlock to hold out his hand which he did and she took it in her own. 'There were particular signs of pressure here...' She grazed her finger along the inside of his wrist, across his veins, 'and here' this time she touched his wrist bone. There was also evidence that she had spent time pulling on her bonds as the grazing was wider than the cord used to bind her. It had rubbed here in particular,' once again she used her finger to indicate the area of damage.

Sherlock frowned, seemingly lost in thought and oblivious to the fact that his hand was still in hers. She knew she ought to let it go but when she'd taken it she'd been caught up with the discussion about the autopsy and now she was realising she had his hand in hers and she didn't want to let it go. She could see the callouses from his violin playing and small scars no doubt from fights and it made her want to hold on and never let go but she knew she had to.

'Would you be able to let me have some hands Molly? I'd like to do some tests on the effects of ligature marks after death and after periods of time in water. I think it would prove to be valuable.'

She finally made to move her hand away from his but at the last moment he turned his over and caught her wrist. She looked up into his eyes and waited, knowing she was holding her breath.

'You know I am always glad of your help Molly. I know I don't say it as much as I ought but I am truly grateful.'

She smiled nervously, conscious that he still held her hand in his larger grip. 'I know you are Sherlock. It's fine.'

Time seemed to stretch and Molly could feel the atmosphere shifting slightly but just as she wondered if something more might happen he let go of her hand and started to stand.

'Anyway, thanks for tonight Molly but I need to go back to Baker St. I need to go to my mind palace and arrange my thoughts; this case is far from over.'

He picked up his coat and was half way out of the door before she'd even stood. 'Oh right OK, anytime.'

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He swept his coat around his shoulders as he left Molly's flat. Something had happened in there that had made him want to run away and he wasn't happy. He needed to get a grip on his feelings especially towards Molly; all this time alone was obviously bad for him and leaving him vulnerable to sentiment.

He walked back to Baker St taking the opportunity to buy a packet of cigarettes from an off licence on the way. Thankfully it was a clear, dry night and he stopped in Regent's Park at the top of Baker St for a cigarette before heading to the flat. He tended to smoke out of doors to stop Mrs Hudson from complaining.

As he sat on one of the benches overlooking a grassy play area he thought back to the moment in the flat when Molly had taken his hand in hers. The moment she had skimmed her finger across his inner wrist he had felt his whole body react to her touch; his heart beat had increased, his temperature had elevated and his mouth had felt dry. It was as though her touch were electric. He had struggled to concentrate on what she was saying.

Her hand had felt right as she had held his; he'd looked down at it and wondered how a hand which looked so ordinary, non-descript even, could deliver such a stinging blow to his cheek, could slice up dead bodies with precision and could ignite such strange feelings when touching him.

As she had started to remove it he had found himself not wanting the loss, wanting to stay connected to her. He had caught her hand in his; letting his fingers slide over her pulse point, feeling how fast her heart was beating. It seemed to awaken something primal in him and for the first time in years he wondered if he was starting to form an attraction, a sexual attraction for another person.

It had been that thought, that and the fact that he had found his eyes drawn to her lips that had him standing and fleeing from her presence. He hated how weak that made him feel. Sherlock Holmes didn't flee from anyone let alone a small, nervous, love-lorn pathologist but there seemed to be no other explanation. Even as he said that description of her in his head he felt guilty. This was what he always did; he pushed people away with cruel observations. He was at least honest enough with himself to know he did it. Molly was so much more than that base, cruel deduction of her; she was brave, knowledgeable, resourceful and not afraid to stand up to him when she needed to. She may be love-lorn but it didn't diminish her in fact it showed her loyalty, commitment and strength.

Even just thinking about her had memories swirling around his head. Memories of him telling her that he loved her, hearing her say it back and knowing deep in his soul that maybe, just maybe the words he had said were true. He hadn't admitted it to anyone, though he suspected Mycroft knew it, instead he had buried it; promising himself he'd deal with it later, when he had more time. Well, now was later and he had had too much time recently. Maybe if he was really honest it was fear and not lack of caring which was stopping him.

He flicked the dying fag end into the bushes and pushed himself to his feet, maybe he was sleep deprived, he hadn't had much recently. His mum had always said a good night's sleep could help with every problem, not that he'd ever paid it that much attention.

The next day however just brought a fresh set of problems with the form of another set of photographs. This set had Sherlock phoning Greg immediately.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

They met at Barts and Sherlock quickly laid out the photographs staying silent as Lestrade, Donovan and Molly looked at them. Lestrade's mouth set itself into a tight line whilst Molly put one hand over her mouth and turned immediately to Sherlock. 'You can find her can't you?'

He shrugged. 'All I know is we haven't got much time. These were taken yesterday; he's making a point of leaving a paper in each time.'

This time the three photos were of a frightened and very much alive young girl. She appeared to be in the same location, her wrists bound to the wooden chair she was sat in. Her eyes pleaded with the camera for help but the dirty rag tied across her mouth prevented any other form of communication from her. The photos were tight in on the girl so there wasn't much to be seen of the background but there was some, on both these and the previous pictures, and that was what Sherlock zeroed in on.

He barked instructions to Lestrade and Donovan and twenty minutes later they left Molly to go to Scotland Yard.

Molly tried to get on with her work but all she could think about was whether they'd be able to find that poor girl in time. Her face haunted her; dirty blond hair hanging limply around a face with dark blue, haunted eyes, and she hoped she never had to witness anything like that again. She didn't know how Sherlock carried that burden with him, the burden of having to be the one to save them...all those victims all needing a rescuer. No wonder he sealed himself off emotionally, he wouldn't be able to function if he felt everything too keenly.

From the sounds of it John was joining them at Scotland Yard and as she didn't want to bother Sherlock she sent John a quick text asking him to keep her informed of progress. He replied in the affirmative and Molly tried to put it from her mind and concentrate on her work.

It was mid-afternoon when Peter texted to say how much he was looking forward to their date and that sent Molly into a bit of a spin. She really did want to see him but with everything that was going on she really wasn't sure whether she could go out on some sort of fun date knowing that that girl was still out there somewhere.

In the end she called Peter asking if they could put off their date for 24 hours. He wasn't happy and even asked her if it was connected to Sherlock which made Molly regret being quite so open with him.

'Not specifically but I'm helping him and the police with the murder that was reported in the papers yesterday and I don't feel right going out when there's a serious development taking place. They may need me.'

'They or him?'

Molly stayed quiet feeling concerned by the jealous overtones in his voice and he soon cut back in. 'Listen Molly, I'm sorry, that was unfair of me. I just...well, I was looking forward to seeing you later. But don't worry tomorrow is just as good. Take care and I'll call around tomorrow at the same time.'

She hung up feeling relieved that she wasn't going to have to put in an effort when she really didn't feel like it. She sent John another text but didn't hear anything back so assumed they must be busy.

JWJWJWJWJWJWJWJWJWJWJW

Molly wasn't wrong in her assumption. John's afternoon with Sherlock had been a whirlwind of activity and he was almost ashamed to admit that he was thoroughly enjoying it. He had missed this since Mary had died. Being with Rosie and his work in the doctor's surgery just didn't come close to giving him the same thrill.

He was currently running full pelt after Sherlock, they'd abandoned the cab five minutes ago and were continuing their search on foot. John knew that Lestrade and his team weren't far behind them and would be hitting similar identified warehouses on the other side of the industrial estate.

Between the photos, the location that Sherlock had worked out the first body had been put into the Thames and the analysis of dirt from the dead girl's fingernails Sherlock had narrowed their search down considerably but they still had too much ground to cover and too little time.

Printed onto the back of one of the photos had been the epitaph 'tick, tock 6pm'. John looked at his watch as he ran, 5.55pm. They were going to be too late he just knew it. They would never have even got this close without Sherlock but even he couldn't conjure up miracles. John's leg muscles were straining, his chest burning...he was out of practice with all this.

Sherlock burst through the doors of the warehouse and immediately scouted around for the stairs. His assessment was that where ever she was being held was an upstairs room based on the angle of the sun coming in through one of the windows. The maths had baffled John.

Two minutes later and his muscles were protesting once more as they made it to the top floor only for John to see Sherlock banging his fists in frustration against the wall of the empty, barren space.

'It's the wrong one John. Damn it...' John saw him look at his watch and spin on his heel as he dug in his pocket for his phone.

'Lestrade, where are you? Do you have her?'

John could hear Lestrade's voice but couldn't make the words out. Whatever he said wasn't what Sherlock wanted to hear though because the Consulting Detective fair exploded into the phone.

'No...for god's sake not that one. The third one, I clearly said the third one. We have one more to try on this side but we're out of time.' He paused for a moment listening before replying. 'I doubt we'll find her alive now.'

He replaced his phone and turned to John looking so dejected that John felt he had to say something.

'Come on mate, it was always a long shot, you gave it everything you could. This is not your fault.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Well I know that. If I hadn't been surrounded by incompetence we might well have found her but as it was...oh, don't look at me like that I'm just stating the obvious. Come on let's check the last building.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare failure and another body, but don't worry things will be starting to hot up soon for our pair.


	5. Chapter 5

It was just after six thirty when Molly started to receive the texts.

**Sorry Molly, bad news I'm afraid. Sherlock did his best but we were too late. JW**

**Second victim has been found dead. Need urgent autopsy. SH**

**Any chance you could come back into work this evening Molly? We've had a request from you know who. Mike**

Molly sat down heavily on the settee and still clutching her phone she rested her forehead on her hands. She wanted to scream and punch something but she knew neither of those things would help the girl now. The only thing they could do for her now would be to find her killer and quickly before he attacked and hurt anyone else.

She took a deep breath and then sent some texts back before standing and making her way to her bedroom to change back into her work clothes.

John was the first person she saw when she got back to Barts he was leaning on the wall outside the morgue and pushed himself to his feet when he saw Molly.

'Hey Molly, good to see you.' He leant forward and kissed her on her cheek.

'Why are you out here?'

'Just having a breather from Sherlock, he's in a foul mood; blaming just about everyone for our failure to find her in time. I swear, he couldn't have done more and maybe he's right, maybe we just slowed him down.'

'I don't believe that for one minute. Well, I'd better go in. Sooner I can do the autopsy sooner he can catch the killer.' She gave a wan smile and John tried to return it. 'Fine, I'll go get us all some coffee...at least that will be something useful.'

As Molly pushed open the doors she could hear Sherlock ranting to Lestrade. 'One instruction, that was all and it's the difference between this girl being alive and dead. They should sack the lot of you. I don't understand how Scotland Yard can manage to employ such a roundly incompetent...'

He turned as Molly entered and she saw his face morph from anger to relief, if not even happiness.

'Ah Molly, at least I can rely on you to not let me down.'

'Hi Sherlock. I was sorry it didn't go the way you wanted it too...the way we all wanted it to. I take it this is her?' She gestured towards the covered corpse and he nodded brusquely. 'We had it narrowed down to six possible locations but Lestrade's people went to the wrong building and by the time they rectified their error it was too late.' He turned his head once more to glare at Lestrade who was looking both angry and sheepish.

There wasn't a lot Molly could say to that so she concentrated on setting up her equipment and changing from her outdoor jacket to her lab coat. 'Right well this should take about two hours. Do you want me to text you when I'm finished?'

'No need. I'll be here, upstairs in the labs. I have some work I need to do.'

'OK, I'll see you later then.'

On that note Sherlock, Lestrade and his officers traipsed out of the morgue leaving Molly alone with the victim.

She lay her hand on the victim's chest above the sheet and gave her a silent apology before she pulled back the cover and got to work.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

By the time she had finished she was exhausted. Her neck and back were stiff and aching from leaning over the victim. She sewed her up and left her to the interns to put away and clean the equipment whilst she made her way upstairs with the basics of her report.

When she entered the lab Sherlock was alone, still pouring over the photos, adding comments and pointers into a small notebook.

She put her file down on the desk and used her right hand to rub her shoulder trying to take away the muscle ache she felt. 'Hey, you all alone?'

Sherlock looked up briefly. 'It would appear so. Lestrade has quit for the night, something about going back to the office to file an official report and John had to get back for Rosie. Honestly, it's no loss. I'd have been better off without them today.'

'Maybe, but they were all doing their best. Mistakes and errors happen to the best of us.'

'Well, this error cost that girl her life and us the chance to catch the killer.'

'And they'll live with that knowledge every day Sherlock, you know they will. Blame isn't going to bring her back and nor will guilt.'

He sat back on his stool and rubbed a hand across his face. 'You're right Molly, of course you're right but I hate to lose. He set this up as a game and I lost.'

She went over and touched his arm, wanting to give him her support but not really knowing how to express it. He looked down at where her hand rested on his arm and to her surprise rather than pulling away he covered it with his own. 'I...I am glad you're here Molly. Now, what did you find in the autopsy? Anything I should be aware of?'

She sat on the stool at the side of him and went through the main details. He asked a few pertinent questions and as the conversation drew to a close he saw her try to rub her shoulders again.

'Hmm...turn around?'

She narrowed her eyes. 'What? Why?'

'You are obviously in some pain, no doubt as a direct result of me insisting you come in to do the autopsy even after you'd finished a full day in work. It seems only fair that I return the favour by giving you a shoulder and neck rub.'

'Oh!' That one word was all Molly could manage as she found herself swivelling around in her seat. She mouthed a silent 'what the hell' at the wall opposite her but then his hands were on her shoulders and she lost all coherent thought.

His hands were glorious; strong and adept. Molly struggled to find the words to express her feelings as he worked the muscles in her shoulders, neck and upper back. At one point she actually let out an audible groan of pure pleasure but instead of stopping all she heard was a responding chuckle from Sherlock behind her.

'Oh God...where did you learn to do this?' She asked.

'Is it good then?'

'Good...it's more than good. It's amazing. You could do this to my body all night.' She blushed and bit her lip as she realised what she was saying but he didn't seem to have noticed.

'I had to go undercover at a spa in Zurich for two weeks... when I was dead. Mycroft made sure I was fully trained before I went in. It wasn't a difficult skill to learn but as jobs went it was one of the worst. The kind of people who pay for an expensive, exclusive spa retreat are not the sort I would normally want to put my hands on.'

Molly laughed and tried not to let out any noise of complaint when he finished his ministrations. She turned back to him rolling her shoulders and feeling how loose and free they felt. 'Well, I for one appreciate your talents in that area. And now I know you can do such great massages I might call on your skills more often.' He seemed to be a little unsure as to whether she was joking or not but he gave a half laugh as Molly busied herself tidying up the file and standing.

'Right, I'll type this up Monday when I'm back in. You know where I am if you need anything. And...well, take care of yourself Sherlock. I know how you get on a case with the whole not eating and sleeping thing.'

He rolled his eyes but nodded. 'You sound frighteningly like John but thankfully you're much better looking.'

Molly laughed at his joke but knew she was blushing as she made her way to her office.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was still thinking about Molly as he made his own way out of Barts. For some reason she was featuring more prominently in his thoughts over the last few days. He wondered if it was because they had been more physically demonstrative with each other than they had before. But then that gave rise to more questions. Why had he allowed them to be more physical? He would normally have shied away from contact; not just with Molly, with everyone, but he found himself wanting more with her. He could still remember the feel of her under his hands as he'd massaged her and the way it had made his mouth run dry and is heart beat faster.

Maybe he really had been alone for too long. 'No man is an island,' he whispered to himself as he walked remembering a John Donne poem that he'd had to learn as a school boy. The older he got the more he realised how true it was and he knew he didn't want to be an island...not any more. He had seen what happens to someone when they are all intelligence and no heart. His sister was living proof that being without emotions was a bad thing.

But why Molly? That was easier to answer. He cared for her; he knew that now without any doubt. At first he had tried to tell himself it was platonic affection but it wasn't. She was strong, resourceful, knowledgeable and loyal; more than that she appealed to the man inside him, the base, sexual man. Altering the dynamics of their relationship would be so easy to achieve but he wasn't sure, it would be an unalterable step. If he did this and it went wrong he could destroy a treasured friendship and an irreplaceable work asset; not to mention the target he would be putting on her back by being identified as someone he had feelings for. He needed to distance himself from Molly, be more careful. He couldn't afford to lose her just for the sake of some physical comfort and release.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The next day was quiet. He spent most of the day at Scotland Yard reigning in his temper over the debacle of the day before. They needed to move forward rather than dwell on the past.

He had been pointed in the direction of one clue by Molly; a small mark on the second girl's cheek. She had obviously been punched and Molly had spotted a round mark which looked like it could be from a signet ring. She had sent a high resolution picture through to Sherlock as part of the report and he had worked with a specialist, forensic unit within the police to have the image enlarged, sharpened and then reversed.

What they were left with was a blurred half of a symbol which appeared to be a cross with smaller crosses inside each quartered square. It didn't take Sherlock long to narrow it down to the current flag of Georgia, an indeperant state close to Russia.

Finally, it was a clue that they could work with; that would explain why this spate of murders seemed to have no preceding crimes that matched. Maybe if he were to check the murders in Georgia they would find links. Getting access, however, proved to be harder than he had expected.

Lestrade was skeptical about how fast they would be able to get permission to contact their equivalents in Georgia and how easy it would be to find evidence. Frustrated, Sherlock knew he would need to contact his brother if he wanted to get access within 24 hours or less. He texted Mycroft and left Scotland Yard for Baker St whilst he awaited a response.

When he arrived home there was another envelope on the mat. This one appeared to have been hand delivered. He shouted through to Mrs Hudson to see if she knew what time it might have arrived but she appeared to be out so he fished a glove out of his pocket and careful carried the envelope upstairs.

He placed it on his kitchen table and examined it thoroughly before gently opening it. As before there were three Polaroid pictures. The first two were of women; taken on the streets of London. The first was late twenties, red hair, sunglasses, dressed like one of the numerous office workers that flooded the streets. The second was older. Late thirties, short blond hair, fag in her mouth as she worked the streets, it had been taken at night and Sherlock recognised a Soho shop behind her.

The third had him running for the stairs with a deep sense of dread overtaking him and making him feel nauseous. The third picture was of Molly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Molly is in danger and Sherlock is starting to acknowledge his feelings. I hope you liked this chapter better, please do let me know.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock was dialing Molly's phone even as he ran out onto Baker St; his hand already in the air hailing a cab. For once there were none to be found and he paced the street anxiously listening to the phone ringing out whilst scanning the road for sight of one.

Finally, as the phone went to voice mail, a cab turned the corner and Sherlock was almost in the street forcing it to stop as he left a message for Molly to contact him urgently.

As he gave the driver her address he urged him to get there in less than ten minutes on the promise of a large bonus then he phoned Mycroft.

'Come on, come on damn you,' the phone connected and he heard his brother's insufferably cool tones.

'And the same damnation to you too Sherlock. If you're wondering why I haven't got back to you about the Georgia thing...'

'I don't care about the Georgia thing...at least not at the moment. What security or surveillance do you have on Molly Hooper?'

'Now? None, why would we? The risk from Moriarty and Eurus was removed and there seemed no need for it to continue. Why?'

'Dammit Mycroft, why didn't you consult with me? Are you telling me she's unprotected?'

'Well I hadn't realised she was so important to you Sherlock. If you recall I asked you her status after that scenario that Eurus forced on you, in fact I seem to remember we had a long and very heated conversation about it and you made it clear that she was nothing more to you than a friend and a useful asset. Anyway, as I'm sure you're aware government resources are not there for your personal use. It may surprise you to hear but there are some more pressing matters. Matters I've been trying to get you to help with, unsuccessfully, for some time so forgive me if I am less than sympathetic.'

Sherlock struggled not to just tell his brother to fuck off but in the end he just hung up and looked out of the window wondering how he could have allowed Molly to be unprotected. How had he overlooked her safety in such a fundamental way? How had he allowed Mycroft to not realise how important she was? Unfortunately all the answers just led back to his own stupidity. He swore if anything happened to her he would never forgive himself; in that moment he wasn't even sure he could carry on living. He knew just how much the idea of being without her scared him...really scared him...so how had he let it come to this?

He picked up his phone and dialed her number once more. This time she answered and the relief he felt robbed him of speech for a moment and he squeezed his eyes shut just revelling in the sound of her voice.

'Hello...Sherlock, is that you? Are you alright?' It was the rising panic in her voice which brought him back to reality.

'Yes, it's me, where are you? Why didn't you answer earlier?'

'I'm home and I didn't realise you had rung. I must have been in the shower. What's up? You sound stressed.'

'I'm on my way to your flat. It the meantime don't let anyone in...any one do you understand?'

He heard her sigh. 'I'm getting ready for a date Sherlock. It's really not a good time.'

'For God's sake Molly, you are in danger. I'm five minutes away...just do this for me.'

He hung up feeling unreasonably irritated at her having a date; he'd tried to forget that she was seeing someone. Why she bothered he had no idea. She'd be much better off staying single.

He ignored the small voice which was telling him why he didn't really want her seeing someone else.

Five minutes later and he was climbing out of the cab, leaving a delighted cabbie in his wake counting up the sizeable tip. He made it up the stairs and leant on the buzzer by her door only feeling fully happy when she opened it; albeit with an angry look on her face as she remonstrated with him for making so much noise.

'I know you don't care but I do like to actually get on with my neighbours. Now what's this you're concerned about?'

She led him through into her familiar front room; finishing putting in her earrings as she went. He noticed she was wearing a black, tight fitting, sheath dress not dissimilar to the one she'd worn all those years ago to his flat. This time, as then, it suited her small frame perfectly and the more muted accessories just enhanced the look.

He needed to focus on the matter in hand though and that was getting Molly to safety.

'I received more photos and I hate to have to tell you but this time they show his prospective victims and you're one of them. He's probably targeting you because of me. Now pack what you need to, sort something for your cat and you can come back to Baker St with me.'

Molly turned slowly to look at him in confusion. 'Sorry, what? I'm not going anywhere. I think I already mentioned that I have a date tonight. I cancelled once and I'm not cancelling again.'

Sherlock rose himself up to his full height feeling more than a little frustrated, why wouldn't she just do as he asked? 'I don't think you understand. You're in danger. You need to leave...now.'

'No, I need to just make sure I'm not alone with any strangers and I can do that by going on my date. Now if you don't mind I'd prefer it if you weren't here when he arrived. He's already antsy enough about you as it is.'

For a moment Sherlock was almost derailed into asking her why his presence would make this idiot date of hers nervous but he came back to his original goal which was to get Molly safely back to his place. He marched past her and into her bedroom spying her suitcase on top of her wardrobe and swinging it down easily.

'What the hell are you doing? Put that back right now. I told you I didn't want to leave and I meant it. God you're insufferable. I'm not a child and I'm not an idiot and you can't come in here and order me around like this.'

As she was shouting at him he heard the sounds of her date arriving. It took him a moment to think of a plan and another second to consider the implications of that plan but he couldn't see any major flaws and so he enacted it.

He left the suitcase on the bed and in one move he turned and stepped towards Molly; he brought his hands up to cup her face and then kissed her with every ounce of passion that he could muster.

Her mouth opened to his automatically and he tilted her head slightly as he controlled the kiss. He had thought that he knew what to expect but he had had no idea. Within seconds he was losing himself in the kiss, in the touch of his hands on her face, his mouth moving rhythmically against hers causing a chain reaction throughout his body.

She was soft and warm and pliant and he wanted her; burning lust spread through him like fire on dry kindling. He wanted to strip her naked and make her his. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to the hilt, and then fuck her until she screamed his name and swore she would never love another.

Another moment passed and he felt her hands gripping his shirt holding him to her as they both fought for control of the kiss. He had never kissed anyone like this, not in his youth, not Janine, not anyone and he never wanted it to end. But end it must and it came with an intake of breath and a cry of shock from behind them.

'Molly, what the hell!'

Molly stumbled away from Sherlock looking confused and shocked. She turned towards the passably attractive, middle-aged guy in the hallway and her mouth fell open in horror. 'Oh God Peter. I'm so sorry I...'

She ran off after him as he stalked away from her towards the door of the flat.

Sherlock couldn't be bothered to follow. He had no interest in their domestic. The kiss had served its purpose and that purpose was ending the date so that Molly would come with him.

What was bothering him more was his reaction to the kiss and how much he wanted to do it again. Not just to kiss her but to do so much more. He had intended to distance himself from her and he'd done the exact opposite and he wasn't sure he was in any position to be able to emotionally or physically backtrack.

He heard a door slam and a few moments later Molly came back into her room looking a little shell-shocked. He noticed her lips were swollen from his kiss and that her eyes were red rimmed from her fight but she hadn't actually shed any tears.

'Right, now that's sorted you need to pack.'

As if in slow motion he saw every emotion as it passed across her face; confusion, realisation, sadness and then anger. It was no surprise then when he felt her hand whip stingingly across his face. His head snapped to one side and he closed his eyes briefly.

'You utter, utter bastard. You did that on purpose didn't you...just to get him to break up with me. I thought that phone call was the lowest thing you had ever done and I didn't think you'd ever do something like that to me again but this time...this time Sherlock, you've excelled yourself.'

'Molly, I don't think you understand...'

'Oh, I understand only too well Sherlock. For once I didn't dance to your tune and you didn't like it. Well you know what you can...you can just piss off. Go on...get out.'

'Molly...'

'Don't, I don't want to hear you...I don't want to see you...just get out!'

Her voice had risen and she was pulling on his sleeve dragging him through her flat towards her door.

He knew he was never going to get anywhere whilst she was in this kind of mood so he gave her one last plea. 'Just promise me you won't stay here, go and stay with John or one of your friends. Promise me!'

'Fine, I'll ring John, now GET OUT!'

The moment his feet were over the threshold she slammed the door in his face. He stood there for a moment trying to work out how it had all gone so badly wrong before he trudged despondently down the stairs.

Needless to say he didn't go too far. He lurked in an alleyway opposite her block of flats waiting to make sure that she would leave and that she was safe whilst she did so. He also texted John who replied a few minutes later to confirm that Molly had indeed called and was going to make her way over.

As he watched her windows and the main door he thought through his actions and tried to see if he could or should have done things differently. What he had done had not fully been spur of the moment kiss, he had thought it through but he was now starting to wonder if sentiment had played a bigger part in his decision making than he had realised. His reactions to kissing her had been so much more than he had ever thought they would be. As was the uncomfortable jolt in his stomach when her front door opened and she exited her flats, carrying an overnight bag, just as her pre-booked cab pulled up.

He pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and watched her carefully as she checked the cab was hers before climbing in. He could see her talking to the cabbie, no doubt telling him John's address and then they were pulling away out of view. Gradually he walked out of the shadows of the alley and watched as the cab drove away before it finally turned left at the bottom of the street and out of his line of vision.

Still he stood there trying to comprehend what was happening to him, but there seemed to be only one explanation and it terrified him. It terrified him more than jumping off Barts roof had. He had tried to tell himself that his feelings for Molly were platonic but he was wrong, dead wrong. He wanted her, he wanted her love, her body, everything and he had no idea what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas guys? How's he going to dig himself out of this hole...or will he dig himself in deeper ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an apology to make about my reference to Georgia in a previous chapter, as a reviewer rightfully pointed out it was an independent state and not part of a disbanded USSR. My apologies, my research was a bit lacking. I will go back and correct that point but thanks for mentioning it.

Once he'd heard from John that Molly had arrived and he knew she was safe he was able to concentrate on the other two photographs. The woman in business attire would be harder to track down so the Soho prostitute would be his first port of call. He had already texted a copy of the images to his homeless network and now it was time to contact Lestrade. Once again he texted copies and he agreed to meet him at Scotland Yard in an hour. That gave him time to call in on his brother, he found he had a bone or two he wanted to pick with him.

He glanced at his watch, it was just after 8pm which meant his brother would be at his club, perfect. Sherlock hated going to Mycroft's home, it had previously been their family's London residence and it reminded him too much of his childhood; all those memories that he'd suppressed had been welling up to the surface over the last six months and he still struggled to deal with them.

He wished he could trust his memories, to know categorically what was real and what wasn't. He'd been so sure of his past and who he was but that had all changed when he found out about Eurus and the death of his best friend. How could he have forgotten? He had read the psychology behind it, the childhood reaction to a trauma too painful to bear but it seemed removed from who he was, who he had always thought he was and going to the Holmes residence just brought it all back up and so he did what he had always done and avoided it.

Although he wasn't a member at the Diogenes he was a regular visitor and well known so he was soon shown into the private room where his brother was reading some files and sipping on a sherry. Without even being needed to be asked a glass was placed at Sherlock's side housing his favourite single malt, he could see why his brother liked it here, basking in power and masculinity, almost his every need tended too.

'Sherlock, I'd say I'm surprised to see you but I'm not, in fact I wonder that it took you so long.' He cast a glance over at his brother before raising a single eyebrow. 'I see Miss Hooper "did not go gentle into that good night", she does have a tendency to slap you brother, you should be more careful.'

'It's Dr Hooper to you and why exactly does she not have any protection or surveillance?'

His brother sighed and rolled his eyes. 'It may have escaped your notice brother that our country is at imminent risk of a major terrorist incident or incidents and that the well-being of your friends and acquaintances might not be top priority. I removed protection from all your associates once we finished wrapping up the final problem with our sister. You can't expect me to protect them from every Tom, Dick or serial killer who might target them.'

'I can and I do. Molly could have been abducted...tortured...killed. You know what she has done for me, what she means to me...'

'Oh good God!'

Sherlock was stopped in his tracks and knew he had given himself away somehow. The inflection of his voice, a facial tic...something. He tried to dissemble but knew it was probably futile.

'What? What bee has got in your bonnet now?'

'You love her.' Mycroft actually leant forward, examining Sherlock with a look of resignation on his face. 'I hardly need to question when this happened, we both know, but for once in your life would you just be honest with yourself. I know that in the past I told you that caring is not an advantage and in a lot of ways I still believe it...it compromises you, weakens your effectiveness. However, that being said we both know you are too emotional to live without it so isn't it time you just acknowledge it and move on.'

Sherlock picked up his drink and took a large gulp, suddenly grateful that it was there. He wasn't sure that this was a conversation he was ready to have, it was all still a work in progress for himself let alone discussing it with his relationship-hating brother. He should have been sensible and stayed away but instead he'd proved his brother right by letting emotion cloud his decision making.

'I've spent my whole life trying and failing to follow your example Mycroft; it's a hard habit to shake off but anyway I think we both know that I'm not the only emotional Holmes child.'

'Speak for yourself Sherlock. I don't think you'd see me compromising myself for a woman.'

'Maybe not but you compromise yourself over and over again for me. And why? Because you care.'

Mycroft's face showed his anger and displeasure. 'Yes, and look where it's got me so far. You have no idea of the problems you've caused me over the years; the Adler affair, Baskerville, Magnussen. I should follow my own advice and cut you off.'

He took a deep breath, 'but mummy wouldn't be happy if I did that now would she; not with the Holmes family all back together again after all these years'

'Yes, you always were a mummy's boy and don't think I haven't noticed you trying to get back in her good books "Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir".' Sherlock recited the rhyme in a high pitched sing song voice and wondered for a split second if his brother might actually try and punch him. He'd like to see him try. Mycroft might be smarter than him but too many years behind a desk meant that Sherlock could now take him in a fight...easily. He didn't have an age and size advantage now like he had had in their youth.

'But enough of me...am I to offer my congratulations to Dr Hooper and yourself?' Mycroft asked sarcastically and provokingly.

It was Sherlock's turn to bridle but he knew his brother was trying to needle him and wind him up and he refused to bite. Instead he turned Mycroft's implications back on him.

'Not quite yet brother, I'll let you know when. You might want to reinstate that security though...mummy wouldn't be happy if anything happened to the mother of her future grandchildren now would she?'

He stood and turned away from his brother as he put his gloves on, trying not to laugh at the choked noise of shock coming from behind him.

'You haven't...she isn't...'

Sherlock turned back smiling widely, glad to have got one over his brother for once. 'No, not yet, but maybe it's just a matter of time. You know me once I've made my mind up about something. I'll be moving her to Baker St to at least ensure I can keep an eye on her. In the meantime I've sent you two images of the other possible victims. Let me know about the Georgia connection, I'd like to access their records as soon as possible. It looks likely that our killer started his career there.'

He made his way to the door waiting for the parting barb that he knew would come; his brother would not be able to resist it.

'She'll be your undoing Sherlock, just mark my words. Your feelings for that woman will at the very least compromise you and at worst destroy you. You know they will.'

Sherlock didn't deign to answer; instead he just slammed the door loudly behind him, knowing how much his brother would hate it and how much trouble it would get him in with the other members. He knew it was petty but their relationship had always been childish and petty and no amount of family bonding would change that.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

After the turgid anachronism that was the Diogenes Club it was a relief to go to the clean, stark, modern lines of Scotland Yard.

When he arrived Lestrade had some good news for him. The blond hooker from Soho was known to them. She had been arrested a few times, all low level crimes but her face was on record and known to the local Soho police that Greg had contacted. He had already sent teams to her last known address and to her local stomping ground and he was hopeful of picking her up soon.

The other woman was causing more of a headache. 'If they'd wanted a stock photo of a business woman this is the one that they'd use.'

Greg said the line as a throwaway one but as soon as it left his mouth Sherlock commandeered Greg's computer, bringing up her picture and carrying out a Google search. It took him less than five minutes to find her. The picture they had been sent was a reverse image from an advertising campaign for a chain of bistros across the capital.

'So, what does that mean? Does he know her? Is he part of the advertising campaign?'

'No, it means your Soho hooker is already dead. He sent me off on a red herring hunt for Molly, knowing I'd be most concerned about her. The business woman was another dead end.'

He sat back in the chair and ruffled his hair in frustration. 'Her body will be found in the next 24 hours, I guarantee it.' He paused as he gathered his thoughts, 'Dammit it. He's trying to get me to focus my attention on the victims and potential victims so I won't spend time looking at him. Well, he's wrong.'

He stood, picking up his coat.

'Where are you going now?'

Sherlock glanced at his watch. 'Now? Home. But tomorrow I plan to take Molly to Georgia. I'll be in touch.'

Lestrade watched him leave with a look of confusion on his face. 'Molly? You mean Georgia, Russia...or America?'

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly was still seething as she arrived at the John's house and it didn't take him long to pick up on his friend's anger.

He handed her a glass of wine and sat down onto the settee next to her, listening to Rosie gurgling away quite happily to herself through the baby monitor.

'Alright, something's happened with Sherlock so you might as well tell me because I will get it out of you or him eventually.'

Molly took a deep breath. 'Right, well apparently the killer, the one you've both been after, sent Sherlock my photo as a possible victim. I know, not good. So he came round to make sure I was safe which is good of him, I do get that.'

'OK and?'

'And I told him I wouldn't just drop everything and leave with him; he wanted me to go to Baker St for a while until this all blew over. I mean, I was getting ready for my date with Peter.' She glanced up nervously at John. 'He's new, we only met a couple of weeks back. I can't just keep waiting...it's too painful.'

John nodded and took a sip of his drink. He wasn't used to being the confidant in this way, that had always been Mary's role in the past but he'd had to learn a lot since she had died. He shifted uncomfortably at the memory but took a breath to focus himself back onto Molly. She had done so much to help him with Rosie and it was his turn to help her.

'Anyway, you know what Sherlock is like. He wouldn't take no for an answer, even going as far as getting my suitcase down for goodness sake. I was shouting at him and telling him to put it away and then Peter must have arrived without me hearing. I think Sherlock may have forgotten to close my front door.'

She hesitated and blushed remembering what had happened next and John's antennae pricked up, 'Something happened didn't it? What did the bugger do this time?'

'He kissed me...and I don't mean a peck on the cheek. I mean this was an all guns blazing kind of kiss. God, I'm embarrassed just thinking about it.'

John's mouth had literally fallen open in shock. He wasn't sure what he had expected but it had not been that.

'And you did what whilst he was kissing you? I'm assuming from your expression that it wasn't a "push him away and a what the fuck Sherlock" moment.'

Molly dipped her head and shook it. 'No, no...oh God John I kissed him back. I mean, seriously, you know how I feel about him. How I've always felt about him...and he was kissing me and I swear it was the best kiss I've ever had in my life. He is seriously talented.'

John didn't know whether to be proud of his best friend or whether to go round and punch him, either way he was angry with Sherlock for messing Molly around again. It had been bad enough after Sherrinford but at least that had been unavoidable... but this! He wished he could say something to help Molly who looked as though she had tears threatening in her eyes.

'Anyway the next moment Peter is there and he's shouting and storming out. I went after him and caught up with him before he left but he looked so hurt. He just said he'd thought I was better than that and he knew he deserved better than to date someone who was a cheater and then he left.'

'I went back into the bedroom and Sherlock was just all "great has he gone, you can come to Baker St and hide out then now"...it was all just a ruse, just a fake kiss to get his own way, to make me do what he wanted me to. I just can't believe he stooped that low, that he treated me with such low disregard.'

John shook his head in despair at his best friend's actions. _Oh Sherlock, you fucking idiot, what have you done now!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fallout from both sides after the kiss...and a trip away planned, not that Sherlock has actually told Molly yet. Anyway, I'll be back soon with the next chapter, where our couple will meet back up after that kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you liked the last chapter and that you felt I had captured the voices of Mycroft and John. I know I don't always succeed but I do try hard to keep everyone in character as much as possible (apart from making Sherlock a sex god that is).

John frowned and narrowed his eyes as he looked at his friend. Molly was normally so positive and happy and he hated seeing her looking so despondent. Honestly, he could do his friend some serious harm for hurting Molly.

Something was bothering him though.

'It's an odd choice though isn't it...for him I mean.'

Molly glanced up looking confused, 'sorry, what is?'

'Him... kissing you. I mean to use that as his weapon of choice. Why didn't he just do some painful but accurate deductions on Peter, or just come on the date with you and bug the hell out of you? That would be more in character don't you think? It's not as though I didn't have personal experience with that last one on more than one occasion.'

Molly looked at him puzzled. 'So what are you saying? Are you saying he wanted to kiss me?'

'I don't know...maybe. Maybe deep down. Since that phone call I've wondered if he didn't have a bit of a thing for you Molly.' He held his hands out placatingly as she looked at him shocked. 'I know, I know I said the opposite at the time but you should have seen him afterwards Molly. It broke him in a way that nothing else up until that point had. He completely lost it, smashing up the coffin, yelling. It was more than just rage, it was an out pouring of emotion that I have never seen from him before or since. But you know what he's like, so insistent that he has to pretend he's all cold and emotionless. We all know that that's total bollocks though. So, it would skew his thinking wouldn't it. He convinces himself that it's the best option when really there were so many other things he could have done to get the same outcome; all because sub-consciously he wanted to kiss you.'

Molly poured herself another glass, needing the numbness that came with the alcohol. 'Well sub-conscious is as good as not liking me in my book. I want a guy to kiss me because he truly wants to and for a moment there I stupidly thought he did. Well, more fool me. I should know better by now. Anyway, please...can we talk about something...anything other than Sherlock Bloody Holmes; I can't even think about him right now.'

The rest of the evening passed off well with John discussing local preschool options for Rosie with her but Molly couldn't help lying awake into the early hours remembering just how painfully, embarrassingly good that kiss was.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock too had a troubled, sleepless night for very similar reasons and didn't actually fall asleep until the early hours. The kiss had helped him clarify his feelings for Molly and the more he thought about them and about her the more he wanted to explore them. He had thought through the implications of being in a relationship and apart from his concern that she would be targeted because of him he could find no real downsides. As for her being a target she already was, her living with him would just make it easier for him to protect her.

Even he knew he was leaping ahead a little though. First off he needed to go and see her in the morning and see if he could persuade her to travel to Tiblisi in Georgia. Their flight wasn't until 4pm so he had plenty of time to talk her round, for the two of them to pack and to get to the private airfield in Fitton where Mycroft would have a plane ready for them.

It would kill two birds with one stone to take her with him, first and foremost it would be safer and second he liked to have a companion with him when he travelled and John wouldn't be able to leave Rosie. He even mused that maybe he could progress things with Molly whilst he was away. She'd been in love with him for years so he just had to tell her his feelings had changed and she'd fall into his arms. Easy!

However, if the next day taught him anything it was that women are never easy.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When Molly awoke the following morning she was uncomfortable and still exhausted. Sleeping on John's couch hadn't actually been that pleasant, not that she'd say anything to John. He'd been good enough to put her up at short notice but she'd have to sleep somewhere else the next night.

She could hear Rosie crying quietly upstairs and John comforting her and she decided to make them all some coffee and breakfast; to say thank you for letting her stay. She pottered her way through to the kitchen and started to pull out different items but soon realised there was no milk or at least not enough. That was fine though, there was a corner shop at the end of their street and Molly decided to pop down and pick up some more along with some eggs and sausages to go with the bacon and mushrooms she'd found.

She threw on her clothes and headed out, leaving the door on the latch. She'd only be five minutes and it was a quiet Sunday morning with no one around.

It was only as she was heading back to the house, carrying her purchases that she saw him. He was dressed in black and had a hoodie on concealing his face. She only noticed him because the sun glanced off the lens of his camera. He was clearly taking photos of her from across the street.

She felt a sudden swoop of fear in her gut and her mind went into overdrive calculating how far she was from John's house, whether she should go back to the shop. All Sherlock's concerns from the night before suddenly seemed so much more real and she regretted not listening to him. Her hand was already reaching into her jacket to find her phone so she could call him when the guy, realising she'd seen him, turned on his heel and disappeared down one of the alleyways between the houses.

Molly let out an almost sob of relief and picked up her pace, finally making it through the door of the Watson's home and slamming it shut behind her.

John appeared in the door way to the kitchen looking concerned. His concern only increased when he saw the fear on Molly's face. 'What is it? What happened? Are you OK?'

His worry for her almost made her give in to her tears but she pulled herself upright and told him what had happened.

'We need to go and see Sherlock. He needs to know. Are you alright with that?' John hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, needing to go and get dressed.

Molly nodded, 'No, that's fine. I agree. I'll pack up my things.' All thoughts of breakfast had left her head and all she wanted was to see Sherlock and feel safe. She was still mad at him but maybe she hadn't taken his warnings seriously enough... but she would now.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

John managed to get his next door neighbour to mind Rosie for half an hour and it didn't take them long to get to Baker St. and when they arrived it was barely 9.30am.

'I bet the lazy bugger's in bed,' quipped John trying to lighten the atmosphere as he opened the front door with the key he still owned.

He wasn't wrong. The flat was quiet and still dark. John moved to the windows and opened the curtains letting out a shower of dust motes that caught in the sunlight. 'I'll go wake him up. Do you want to make us some coffee?'

Molly put her bags on the settee and shrugged out of her coat as she nodded. She needed something to do. She almost wished she'd brought the bacon and eggs with her but she knew she wouldn't have been able to eat the food herself. She still felt too sick.

As she flicked on the kettle she could hear muffled voices from Sherlock's bedroom before the door opened and John came back out followed soon after by a dishevelled Sherlock. He looked as though he'd barely slept, his face was sporting a layer of stubble and his hair was sticking up all over the place but seeing him still took Molly's breath away. All she could remember was the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her face. She looked away before she caught his eye and she listened as she heard him making his way into the bathroom as John went and flicked on the laptop over by the windows.

Five minutes later and Molly was sat opposite a pyjama clad Consulting Detective trying not to stare too much.

'Right, tell me everything,' his voice was sharp but Molly didn't mind. She tried to give him as much detail about the man as she could but it was difficult. He'd been a couple of hundred metres away and half hidden behind a fence plus the hood and camera had obscured his face. Sherlock never once doubted what she was saying or that the man was targeting her.

He fell silent and Molly looked over at John who just shrugged. She knew she needed to bite the bullet and putting it off wouldn't make it any easier. 'So...well...I wondered if your offer from last night was still open?'

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. 'What offer?'

He wasn't making this easy for her. 'Your offer for me to stay here for a few nights...until you've caught him.'

'Oh that. No.'

Molly felt her stomach drop. 'Oh!'

Sherlock carried on. 'No, we've got flights booked to Georgia at four.'

Molly struggled to keep up, she felt as though she had missed part of the conversation. 'Sorry...no I can't...you did say we didn't you?'

'Yes. I've texted Stamford to get you some time off. We can swing by your flat before we leave to pack you some things. I'm sure you have someone who can look after your cat but if not Mrs Hudson will have him. In the meantime don't leave this flat.'

Before Molly could ask one of the many questions spinning around in her head he stood and started to make his way back to his bedroom. At the last minute John called after him. 'Are you two OK then because I could do with getting back. I had plans for the day with Rosie...'

Sherlock waved him off with one hand without even looking back. 'Yes, fine. I'll be in touch.'

He shut his bedroom door and John just rolled his eyes and smiled at Molly. 'OK then. Well, good luck. I think you're going to need it.' With that he gave her a hug and bid her farewell.

Molly listened to him go before looking out of the window watching as he walked away. She felt as though she had been left alone in the lair of a wild animal and she wondered if she'd come out unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the story is moving on a pace and don't worry the kiss hasn't been forgotten and will be discussed and tackled soon.
> 
> And to those wondering, yes the mention of Fitton is a reference to Cabin Pressure, I can never resist when there is need of a private plane :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems you guys are ever hopeful of a little action when Molly and Sherlock get to Georgia and who am I to disappoint you . So let's get this relationship moving…

Sherlock couldn't help but be a little grateful to the killer for providentially giving Molly the proof she needed to bring her to Baker St. He dressed quickly, picking out Molly's favourite shirt. He'd noticed that whenever he wore the purple or aubergine shirts her eyes would dilate and he would catch her staring at him for just a split second or two longer than normal. He didn't expect he needed any additional help in changing their relationship status but it wouldn't do any harm.

He was also glad that John had left; it would give them the chance to get to know each other better. Plus the conversation he wanted to have with her was private.

When he walked back out Molly was curled up in the chair attempting to distract herself by reading one of his books on the psychology of a killer. She glanced up at him and gave him a nervous smile, 'not sure I should be reading this. It's not making me feel any better. You don't really think he'll target me do you?'

Sherlock sat down opposite her and placed his hands on the armrests, crossing his legs. 'Possibly, it's only because of your connection to me I'm afraid. You're not his type. So far he's preferred sex workers and you're hardly that.' He smiled and she returned it.

He changed his position and leant forward. 'Molly. About last night, I just wanted to say...'

She interrupted him. 'I'd like to say that it's OK and that I get it but it's not OK, I'm still angry with you. I know you were worried about me and my safety and maybe I should have listened to you from the start but doing what you did...' she took a deep breath and seemed to be having to hold herself together emotionally and Sherlock felt a stab to his heart. '...it was just wrong Sherlock. I thought you knew better than to pull such a low stunt but it seems I was wrong. I just hope Peter will understand...I should ring him...'

Sherlock frowned, he most certainly didn't want her getting back in touch with that waste of space.

'No, you misunderstand me Molly. I wasn't going to apologise for the kiss...'

Now it was her turn to look disgruntled. 'Well I think you should. Do you have any idea how cruel that was Sherlock? You...' She glanced away from him and took a deep breath, 'you know how I feel about you and yet you used it...you used it against me...'

He felt frustrated, this wasn't going the way he'd planned it. Maybe he needed to just be more obvious. 'Molly, I like you. I mean, more than like. That kiss wasn't just a ploy...well, it was but it was more than that...it became more than that. I'd like us to be more.'

She finally met his gaze but instead of adoration and capitulation all he saw was anger and distrust. 'Sherlock, I'm here aren't I? I've already agreed to go with you; you don't need to carry on with some stupid charade. The least you could have done was apologise but I don't want us to argue. Let's just forget about it, at least for now. I need to contact my friend and see if she can look after Toby.'

She stood up and started to make her way over to her bags on the settee, no doubt to retrieve her phone. Sherlock stood and caught her hand pulling her back around. 'No, you're not understanding me. I think I'm in love with you.'

'Well strangely enough I don't believe you. After all it's not the first time you've said that is it. I don't understand why you're still feeling the need to try and manipulate me...it's unnecessary and if you're my friend as you say you are you'll stop it.'

Sherlock threw up his hands in frustration. 'God, why is this so hard?'

Molly looked at him in confusion and he decided maybe it would be easier if he just acted so he did what he had been wanting to since the moment she had appeared in his flat. He pulled her to him and kissed her.

He had expected her to react as she had the night before but he was wrong. As his lips touched hers she was pulling back and away from him with her hands pushing on his chest. 'Sherlock... please...I don't want this.'

He let go of her as though he had been burnt, 'but I thought you liked me...you said you had feelings for me, you told me you loved me...'

'And I do Sherlock. You know I do. That's what makes this so wrong. Can't you see...you're just using me, manipulating me to get your own way.'

'I'm not...I swear I'm not. I was last night but I'm not now. Why can't you understand that?'

'Because you haven't changed Sherlock. You're married to your work, you don't do relationships...not real ones anyway and our friendship is too important to me to risk believing that this is true.'

There was silence between them and Sherlock felt as though it was an impenetrable wall. 'How can I prove that this is real?'

She shook her head and he saw that she had tears in her eyes and it broke his heart. He didn't want to upset her; that had never been his intention. 'I don't know...I'm not sure that you can because I don't think it is.' She swiped at her tears almost angrily as though she didn't want him to see them.

He turned around and wiped a hand over his face thinking fast before turning back. 'Give me one chance Molly. You owe us that much at least. We can take it slow, as slow as you like. God, I'll even let you call me your boyfriend if that will prove anything to you...please.'

He could see turmoil in her eyes, the tumultuous battle between hope and disbelief. 'I swear to God Sherlock. If this is some sort of ploy or ruse...'

'It's not.'

'We go slow...and I mean snail's pace.'

'Yes, I swear.' He placed his hand over his heart and he smiled, feeling hope bubbling back up.

'OK then...I suppose.' She bit her lip nervously as she looked up at him and he knew she was still unconvinced. He couldn't help it though; he stepped forward and cupped her cheek with one hand, 'can we seal it with a kiss?'

She nodded almost imperceptibly and this time when he bent to kiss her she didn't pull away. Instead as their lips touched he felt her hands coming up around his back and he looped his own arm around her waist to pull her closer. The kiss was so much better than he'd remembered from the night before. This time he wanted to store every detail in his mind. Her mouth opened to him and it felt as though time stopped for them. There was just him and her, together finally.

It was a couple of minutes before they broke apart, both breathing heavily and looking at each other almost shyly...that was until Sherlock smirked. 'As good as I'd remembered it. Right I have things to do. Just promise me you'll stay in the flat and don't answer the door to anyone, let Mrs Hudson do that and I'll make sure she tells anyone who might ask that you're not here. I'll be back about two which will give us time to swing by yours before we go to the airfield.'

Molly seemed almost dazed so he gave her one last peck on the lips before he grabbed his Belstaff and left. He wanted to check in with Lestrade and give him some final instructions before they flew out.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly heard Sherlock leave but was too bewildered to do anything more than just sit down on the settee. Her mind was reeling from that kiss almost as much as her body was from the hormones and pheromones racing through it.

Had Sherlock just declared he had feelings for her? Had she honestly just agreed to what...date him? He said he'd be her boyfriend that was dating wasn't it?

She honestly hadn't felt this unnerved since that phone call almost six months ago. That time she'd spent the next twelve hours torn between wanting to believe him when he told her he loved her and knowing that something more had been going on and he'd said it for some other reason. And even though she had tried to temper her hope she had been devastated when John had told her the reality; not that she'd shown it, not to John, but later, privately she had cried...cried for the hope she'd secretly harboured that maybe, just maybe he had meant it.

She couldn't bear to go through that again and this latest declaration from him scared her particularly seeing as it was wrapped up in a case; a case where she appeared to be a target. He had no boundaries when it came to his work and she knew that, she'd seen it with her own eyes. Dammit he'd even got engaged to further a case.

She finally stood and made her way through to the kitchen needing a cup of coffee to steady her nerves. It was only as the kettle was starting to boil that she let herself remember that kiss and she bit her lip. Trusting him in this was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

She made her cuppa and a snack and afterwards she decided to take a shower. She hadn't had a chance at John's and if she were spending a few hours travelling she at least wanted to be refreshed before they left. She glanced at her watch noting it was just after twelve and figured she had plenty of time before Sherlock came back.

She was wrong. As she left the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a fluffy blue towel he was sat at his laptop. He glanced up briefly and then looked a second time, this time leaning back with his arm hooked on the back of the chair.

A smile spread slowly across his face and his eyebrows rose up under his fringe. 'Well Molly, I thought you wanted to take it slow but I'm game.'

He stood and moved lazily towards her enjoying seeing the blush rise up on her chest and her cheeks as she held on tightly to the skimpy towel. 'I...I didn't think you'd be back. I just needed a shower, I hope that was OK.'

He bent his head and without touching her whispered in her ear. 'You should have waited we could have shared it.' He enjoyed hearing the way her breath hitched and he longed to let his tongue follow the droplets of water down her neck and into the crevice of her cleavage. But he'd promised he'd go slow...it didn't mean he couldn't tease though.

When he straightened up Molly's eyes were following him, big and dark in contrast to her pale skin. She looked so fresh faced and beautiful that he couldn't help but kiss her again. He briefly wondered, as their mouths met, whether it was possible to be addicted to kissing and he calculated that given the hormone release it probably was but at least this was one addiction he could allow himself.

He still made no other move to touch her and it made the kiss so much more erotic. If Molly had tried to touch him she would have lost her towel and much as he wanted that to happen it had to be on her terms. He finally pulled away when he felt himself starting to react more physically. He could do without travelling with a raging hard on that he'd have no opportunity to relieve.

He knew his heart rate was elevated and he could see Molly's pulse beating in her throat, in fact he could barely drag his gaze away from the sight, it made him want to suck and bite on that point until she were branded as his. Instead he forced his eyes back to her face and smiled, 'you can dry off and change in my room if you want. I promise I won't disturb you, cross my heart and hope to die.' He made the childhood X across his ribs on the left hand side and they both smiled.

She thanked him shyly as she turned away.

He went back to his desk but it was a good five minutes before he felt able to concentrate on his case again. His thoughts were all on Molly and the fact that she was naked in his room. He hoped it wouldn't be too long before she was back in there again but next time he vowed he'd be in there with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that's quite enough of that for now isn't it. I hope you liked the dilemma that Molly faced and that is seemed real; I didn't want to make it too easy for him.
> 
> Now I'm away this week on the Isle of Wight no less. I'm hoping to still give you an update mid-week but if there are any problems it could be a week. Fingers crossed xx


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to my good friend Lilsherlockian1975. This is for you...happy birthday!

When they got to her flat it didn't take Molly long to pack. Sherlock had checked the weather report for her and it seemed the weather where they were going was similar to the UK. They also dropped her keys off with a nearby friend who would collect Toby later and bring him back to her house to stay.

They finally arrived at Fitton airfield just after 3.45 and were greeted by an elderly lady who appeared to be the owner of the firm chartered to fly them out. The plane looked fairly old and Molly was a bit of a nervous flier but Sherlock assured her that he and Mycroft had used this firm many times before and they were both discreet and reliable if not a little unconventional plus apparently the captain was a distant relation of Sherlock's which just made Molly curious to see him.

As they took off she couldn't help but hold Sherlock's hand in a tight grip but at least she knew him. On previous flights she had been known to cling onto whichever poor sap ended up with the misfortune of sitting next to her. Once they were airborne though her nerves dissipated and she took some time looking out of the window and asking Sherlock more about what his plans were when they arrived.

He talked her through all the aspects of the case until she felt her eyelids starting to close. It suddenly felt as though it had been a long day...the fear of realising she was being followed, the rush to get to Sherlock's, his declaration and her conflicting emotions all combined to engulf her in a wave of exhaustion.

The next thing she realised was that she was waking up with her head on Sherlock's chest, with his arm looped around her shoulder. She was still half asleep and she couldn't help but take the time to enjoy the feel of being so close to him; he smelt amazing and she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Her hand had come to rest on his shirt, one of her favourites, and she couldn't resist sliding it down to rest on his firm abdomen. She heard him hum in response and tilted her head up to see him looking down at her and the look on his face took her breath away.

'If you want to keep things slow Molly I suggest you don't let your hand travel much lower.'

She struggled to sit up rubbing at her eyes to wake her up. 'So this is still a thing then?'

He gave her a slightly confused smile. 'If you mean us? Then it's only been...' He looked at his watch, 'ten hours so yes, it's still a thing.'

'I just don't get it. Why now?'

He shrugged. 'Is there a rule book that says when you have to realise your feelings for someone?'

She didn't reply and he sighed before continuing, understanding that she needed more from him. 'I'd like to say it just happened but if I'm honest my feelings have been there for a while. When I...when I said I loved you all those months ago it just seemed to start something, it felt right somehow but I wasn't ready to act on it; to follow it up. I was a mess after learning about Eurus and Victor and I put my feelings for you away...but I don't want to do that anymore...I can't.'

She glanced out of the window for a moment wondering when it had got so dark. 'But what if you get bored, what if they change back? What if the reality of being with me is too much, too human for you?'

She looked back at him and he could see the fear in her eyes. 'All I can say is I know how I feel right now, in this moment, and I don't think that's going to change.'

For the first time she initiated things. She brought her hand up to caress his face, stroking his cheek and letting her thumb slide over one of those gorgeously defined cheekbones. Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips and she licked her own in anticipation as she wondered if she were brave enough to kiss him. Just as she had decided she was and had started to lean in they were interrupted by the slightly over enthusiastic steward.

'Hi, just to let you know we will be starting the descent in a couple of minutes so if you'd like to take this opportunity to engage your restraints that would be brilliant.'

Molly looked at him in surprise, wondering where he'd popped up from. 'Sorry?'

'Skip says it's time to put your seat belts on.'

'Oh right, OK.' Molly removed her hand and concentrated on her seatbelt trying not to think about how much she had wanted to kiss Sherlock. She swore if she got the chance she would do it later.

Their arrival at the private airport, just outside Tbilisi, was reasonably straightforward although Molly hadn't understood anything that had been said. Sherlock had done all the talking and had smoothed their way with quite a lot of money, at least that's how it had seemed to Molly and within the hour they were being taken, by car, to an expensive looking hotel in the centre of the city.

Once again Sherlock did the talking and then they were being led to their rooms. Or room as it turned out.

'What...we're sharing? Couldn't we get separate rooms?'

'Well we could,' answered Sherlock, 'but where's the fun in that. I got us twin beds so it's all above board.'

Molly huffed but didn't kick up too much of a fuss. Truth be told she didn't know the city or the language and she felt safer sticking with Sherlock than being on her own.

'I didn't know you knew Russian.'

'I know a lot of languages Molly and it's Georgian not Russian although I could probably get away with speaking Russian, many people do. It only took an hour or two to learn this one though.'

He gave that snippet of information so casually, as though it were a normal thing to say, and Molly was once again reminded of just how blisteringly intelligent Sherlock actually was. It was something that Molly always found very attractive about him even if she did sometimes feel like a talking monkey next to him.

She dumped her case on her bed and wandered over to him. He'd removed his coat and jacket and was undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling his shirt out from his trousers and she just couldn't resist getting the kiss she'd missed out on earlier. She still had serious concerns that he could and would break her heart but right here and now she just wanted to enjoy the opportunity it afforded her to touch him and kiss him; she even wondered just how far she might be prepared to let herself go.

He stilled as he saw her come over and watched as she placed her hand flat on his chest over his shirt. She glanced up at him briefly and saw him looking down at her as she gently started to undo the buttons on his shirt. He was wearing a purple one which just made her mouth water, and it was so tight she felt almost sorry for the buttons having to strain to hold it in place.

One by one they flicked open until she was able to push the shirt off his shoulders. He shrugged it down his arms and threw it onto a chair near the bed whilst she let her hands slide over his skin. She knew she was pushing the boundaries. She did still want to keep things slow but she felt almost hypnotised at seeing him like this and knowing she could almost do whatever she wanted with him. For a split second a voice in her head urged her on, asking her why she was bothering to wait but it all came down to trust; and whilst she trusted him with her life she didn't yet trust him with her heart.

She let her hands move up until she was able to link them around his neck and she pulled him down to her so she could kiss him. It felt amazing to be able to do it after all these years and he kissed her willingly and expertly. His tongue when it entered her mouth made her groan out loud and she didn't even break off from the kiss when he moved them backwards and onto the bed.

She could feel his weight on her and was even aware of a hardness near her hip but as much as her body cried at her to continue she broke off from the kiss, breathing heavily, and knowing that they had to stop.

It didn't help that Sherlock's lips had immediately gone to her neck where he was busy licking and biting at the skin and she realised with a shock that his hand was openly palming her breast over her shirt making her mewl with need. She needed to shut this down before they both went too far.

He seemed to sense the change in her mood though because he let his hand move back to her waist and his head dropped to rest on her shoulder. 'Aaannnddd you need us to stop.'

She was silent for a moment as her head argued with her heart but eventually she nodded. 'I'm sorry, I really, really am but yes.'

He pushed himself up and off her, glancing at his watch as he did. 'Maybe it's no bad thing, it's past midnight and we have an early start in the morning. Do you mind if I use the bathroom first? It appears I need a cold shower before bed.'

Molly smirked just a little but agreed, taking the opportunity to change into her night clothes whilst she listened to the shower running trying not to think about the fact that he was naked and that she could have been in there with him. Thoughts like that would not do anything to help her keep her resolve.

When she came out of the bathroom herself, ten minutes later, Sherlock was in his pyjamas and lying on top of his bed with his eyes closed and his hands in a prayer position under his chin. She really, really wanted to kiss him good night but she knew if she went near his bed she wouldn't leave it so instead she crawled under the covers of her own bed. She glanced over at him one last time before turning their light out.

'Good night Sherlock,' she whispered wondering if she'd actually be able to sleep with him in the same room as her.

'Good night Molly', came his response.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When Molly awoke in the morning, light was just starting to make its way around the edges of the curtain. She stretched and rolled over and it was only then that she saw Sherlock, splayed out on his back all tangled up in his covers and fast asleep.

The events of the day before came rushing back and her heart skipped a beat at the realisation that she was actually embarking on a relationship with this man. This amazingly, gorgeous, but emotionally challenged, genius of a man. She wondered once again how the fantasy had become a reality and how much better it was.

She propped herself up on her elbow so she could see him better. The greys of the bedroom cast darker shadows around his eyes and cheekbones whilst the expanding rays of sunlight highlighted his jawbone and the cupids bow of his lips always so mobile when awake but so still now.

She longed to touch him, to slide her hands over his body and lose herself in his kiss. She bit her lip as she imagined him moving above her, thrusting himself into her and she wondered once more what was holding her back. Wouldn't she regret it if they did split up and she hadn't taken the opportunity to know what it would be like to see him during sex, to see him come; to know that she had brought him to that. It was in that moment that she realised she would never forgive herself and it was that thought that had her leaving her bed for his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Let me know


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews and I'm sorry I didn't get to reply to them all. The holiday went well but now it's back to normal life...sigh, but on the upside for you guys you get another chapter.

The bed was only a single so as she climbed into it she was already skin to skin with Sherlock. He grunted and shifted over slightly but still didn't wake.

She let her hand move under the covers until she found his stomach. His skin was bare where the t shirt of his pyjamas had ridden up and she was able to feel how warm he was to the touch. His skin felt smooth and unblemished here but she briefly wondered how many scars and injuries he had. She hoped that over time she would be able to kiss each and every one wishing they weren't there but knowing that Sherlock wouldn't be who he was without them.

She slid her hand under his t shirt and across his chest until she felt the small rough patch which indicated where he was shot the year before. Even just thinking about it brought a lump to her throat.

Gradually she brought her hand back down until it rested on his hip. Now was the moment of no return, was she really sure she wanted to do this.

Before she could make her final decision there was a loud knock on the door and a heavily accented voice could be heard. 'Mister Holmes, Mister Holmes.'

Sherlock woke up quickly and looked around the room; he seemed disorientated and only half awake, as Molly rolled out of his bed and made her way to the door.

She answered keeping her body tucked behind the door with just her head peering round. 'Hello, yes?'

'Ah Mrs Holmes...yes? I have your breakfast. Mister Holmes asked to be awaked at seven thirty.' The room service boy looked to be about nineteen with long, dark hair flopping over his eyes as he held the tray out to Molly.

She quickly grabbed the dressing gown from the back of the door and wrapped it round herself before opening the door more fully and taking the tray.

'Thank you,' she called as he pulled the door too behind her.

She padded over to the table which housed the television and tea making equipment and she set the tray down taking in the pastries and fresh meats and cheeses as well as fruit and juice. It all looked delicious and she realised how hungry she was. They hadn't really eaten much the night before just a light meal on the plane.

When she turned back round Sherlock was sat up in his bed with his covers pooled at his waist, ruffling his hair and yawning.

'Tea, coffee or juice?' Asked Molly suddenly feeling shy and wondering if he would question exactly why she had been in his bed. It felt now like a moment of madness...but maybe it was a madness she wasn't far off revisiting. She could still feel the swell of lust that had had her climbing into his bed in the first place.

'Mmm? Oh just coffee for me please. We need to be at the police headquarters early. Mycroft has arranged for us to meet with the local police chief so we can gain access to their records.' He threw back the covers and made his way to the bathroom whilst Molly blushingly busied herself with the kettle.

Five minutes later and he returned; walking over to where she was he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist before kissing the base of her neck.

Molly smiled and leant back against him.

'So, are you going to tell me why you were in my bed and what you were planning for us to do or should I just deduce it for myself?'

She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing she was blushing, but decided to be up front. She turned in his arms so she was facing him and placed her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beat under her right hand and was amazed at how comfortable and natural it felt for her to be this close to him.

'Honestly, I felt horny and I wondered why I was waiting.' She bit her lip and awaited his reaction.

His smile said it all as he bent his head to kiss her and she yielded to him letting him dominate the kiss, tasting his toothpaste as his tongue moved against hers. She could feel all her lust and desire starting to flair back up but before her hands could remove his t shirt he pulled away, breathing heavily.

'Molly, you have no idea how much I want to just throw you onto one of those beds and make you scream my name but I do not intend our first time to be a quickie whilst I'm keeping one eye on the clock. Maybe we should save this for later.'

Molly tried to get her heart rate and libido under control. She knew what he was saying made sense but God, now she'd come this close she really, really wanted him. She knew absolutely that she could change his mind, that they could fuck fast and hard against the wall or on the bed but he was right, she wanted more than that from him and he from her so she caught her breath and turned back to the breakfast tray trying to concentrate on the food.

'What time do we need to leave?'

'In about twenty minutes, we have a car booked.' Once again he came up behind her and placed his hands on her hips, 'just know, I'm not going to put any pressure on you; it's still your decision. But having said that...I can't wait to hear you say my name as you come.'

That last line did more to stoke Molly's desire than anything that had gone before and she wished there were less hours to go until they could consummate their relationship.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

As they drove away from the hotel Sherlock was busy with his phone texting John, Greg and Mycroft to see what was happening back in London. Molly meanwhile took the time to look out of the windows at the city they were driving through. She hadn't travelled that much and when she had it had been to sunny beaches in the med not overcast cities that used to be behind the iron curtain. Not that this place was anything like she expected; it was so much more vibrant.

The city was a sprawling mix of old and new; they passed cobbled streets and open air market stalls and overshadowing them was an ancient castle which Molly hoped they might find time to go and visit if it were open to the public. She said as much to Sherlock who hummed and looked up vaguely for a moment before commenting that public or private he could normally find a way in if she were that interested.

'Any news from London?' She asked wondering why he was so occupied with his phone.

'Not much. There have been no other reports of abductions which mirror our case. Lestrade is no further forward but I have managed to solve another case that he emailed though.'

'What...just now? Without even leaving the car?'

Sherlock just looked at her and raised an eyebrow. 'It's not always about running around after clues. Sometimes it's just the ability to use "zee little grey cells"'. He tapped the side of his head with his finger and then smirked and looked away.

'Did you just quote Hercule Poirot to me? I'm shocked I thought detective fiction would be beneath you or something.'

He shrugged. 'Well, I had to learn my craft somehow. It was useful reading in my youth.'

She moved over and linked her arm through his; smiling as he looked down at their arms in confusion before looking at her. 'It's so damn sexy when I realise how intelligent you are.'

He frowned. 'Really?'

'Yes really. Why wouldn't it be?'

'I don't know. It normally intimidates people. They feel stupid next to me...as most of them should.'

Molly chuckled. 'Well, I'm confident that compared to the average person I'm pretty brainy so even though I'm not your level of brilliance it doesn't intimidate me...it turns me on.'

He turned in his seat and kissed her, his hand coming up to cup her face. The passion in it had Molly moaning into his mouth and she was just grateful that there was a darkened screen between themselves and the driver.

Somehow, within seconds he had managed to pull her over so that she was sat astride his lap, her skirt riding up on her thighs. The kiss they were sharing was becoming more desperate and she could feel his fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her against him.

She wished she could strip him naked, right here in the car but she couldn't and it didn't seem to make any difference to her own arousal which was distracting to the point of no return. She could feel he was hard for her and she used his erection to help stimulate herself even though they were still both fully clothed. It was as though her body had disconnected from her brain and was acting under its own authority. Sherlock did nothing to stop her though, instead he thrust against her and palmed her breast through the thin material of her top, pinching her nipple and raising her level of need until she reached breaking point.

As his mouth left hers he kissed and licked his way down her neck and her hands wove themselves into his hair as she let her head fall back with her eyes tight shut. Every thought, every atom in her body was concentrating on her climax and she knew it was happening, there was no stopping now. She was too far gone to feel embarrassed or to worry about the driver hearing anything.

Finally, just as she started to feel desperate Sherlock's hand slid under her skirt and he pressed against her clit adding just enough pressure to send her over the edge. She came, as he wanted her to, calling his name.

It was only as she started to get her breath back that she realised what she had done and the fact that Sherlock was now the one with the problem. As she slid off his lap she saw him shift uncomfortably trying to alter his position to relieve the pressure of his trousers on his very obvious erection.

Biting her lip she looked from him to the front of the car. 'How much further do we have to go?'

He shrugged. 'We seem to be stuck in rush hour traffic so ten more minutes at the most, maybe as little as five.'

She smiled. 'I'd best be quick then.'

He frowned as he looked at her before his eyes widened as she moved to kneel in front of him. For once she was grateful to Mycroft for hiring a car with enough space and privacy for what she was about to do.

As she reached for the fastenings on his trousers he stilled her hands with his own, 'Molly, you don't have to do this. I'm not expecting it...I'll cope.'

She just smiled and carried on. 'I know...but I want to.'

At that she saw his eyes narrow and his head fall back onto the headrest as he lifted his hips slightly to help her in removing his trousers just enough so she could release his erection.

She didn't have much time for foreplay and he really didn't need it so instead she gripped him tightly and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock before taking him quickly and deeply into her mouth.

His whole body reacted to her actions as he curled in on himself, groaning loudly and bringing his hands to her head to still her movements. 'Fuck, Molly...I can't...'

Even with his cock filling her mouth she smiled to herself at his reaction. This was going to be quick.

The next time she took him as deep he was more prepared and worked with her trying to restrain himself from thrusting up but his hips were rocking back and forth in time with the bobbing of her head and within a couple of minutes he was crying out and spilling his seed into her mouth. She managed, just about, to swallow it all and clean him up so he could refasten his trousers and as the car pulled up in front of the police station Sherlock and Molly managed to look as though nothing much had happened, apart from a few shared glances and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've not been sure about this chapter since the moment I wrote it but sometimes the characters don't act as you expect them too. Let me know what you thought but try not to be too brutal.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that chapter went down better than expected (in more ways than one). Thank you for all your reviews and support...I've had a rough couple of days, family wise (and have to give a shout out to Lilsherlockian1975 for her unending support and unbeatable listening skills), and seeing the email notifiers popping up gave me a real boost so thank you xxx

As Molly walked up the steps of the Police headquarters with Sherlock she couldn't believe what she had just done in that car. She knew it wasn't exactly public but the driver had been three feet away and she'd given Sherlock a blow job. Oh God, she'd given Sherlock Holmes a blow job! What the hell was she thinking and what had happened to taking it slow? Her feelings and hormones and need for him had just seemed to overwhelm her. She needed to try to get a grip and make sure she didn't get hurt in all this. The trouble was she had no idea how to do that.

It didn't help that seeing Sherlock all confident and conversing in a foreign language made her insides squirm and her desire for him flare up all over again.

They were led through into what looked like a briefing room and Sherlock pointed Molly to a chair near the back and quickly explained that this was a meeting of the local detectives and he was going to be asking if they recognised the MO of the London victims.

Sherlock was introduced and it appeared they were asking him to speak predominantly in English.

'It is not often, you see, that we have the chance to practice and it is becoming a significant language in our country.'

Sherlock frowned briefly but nodded and launched into an overview of the victims, how they had been chosen, tied up, killed, disposed of and finally the pictures that he'd been sent by the killer. He also included the reverse image of the ring print found on the cheek of the second victim. This seemed to set tongues wagging and the room erupted in half a dozen different conversations before an older man, who was clearly in charge, brought them back to order.

'Have any of you a recollection, is that the right word?' He turned to Sherlock who nodded. 'A recollection of a crime similar to this?'

There was silence as they all cast their minds back and looked at each other as though for enlightenment. Tentatively one hand was raised and the guy then stood up.

'My English...not good. I...' He fell into some Georgian words here, 'it was ten years ago maybe. A girl, a...what did you say...prost-it-hoot...taken and killed over three days. We found body with photo attached showing her tied up but when she alive.'

Sherlock responded eagerly asking various questions to him in his own language and he replied more and more confidently. He then said something to the guy in charge. He then led Sherlock and a fairly confused Molly through to his office where they waited whilst he made various calls, talking to Sherlock after each one but in his own language which just left Molly more and more bewildered as to what was going on. An hour later and then they were on their way again; this time being led out of the building.

As they hit the streets Sherlock looked for their car and huffed when he realised it had long since departed. Instead he turned to the right and started walking in the direction that Molly assumed the hotel was located in.

She had to almost jog to keep up with him. 'So, what's happening?'

'The case that was mentioned, it took place in Sochi, which is on the coast just outside Georgia. We need permission from their police to access the records. Gregori is going to try to arrange that but they're in Russia not Georgia though close to the border. We need to get visas to travel and work out how we're going to get there. Any preference Molly, flying, train, car? Either way we're looking at delays and wasted time...dammit!'

'Can we not just access the records here...on a computer?'

'If only...no. Older records there are still paper based. They refused to scan anything on the basis that they have no spare resource. If we can get there we can find them and view them ourselves and that's it.'

He seemed angry but Molly knew it was frustration more than anything and anyway she was more than used to his tempers; she knew they were normally more hot air than substance and would blow over as soon as the next breakthrough came along.

As they walked along, at a brisk pace, he was on his phone; first with Mycroft, which seemed to do his temper no good at all, and then with Carolyn the owner of the plane they'd come in on the day before.

As he hung up he turned to Molly and smiled. 'Excellent news. They haven't left yet and have no other commitments so they're happy to fly us to an airfield just outside Sochi. They can leave in a couple of hours once the flight plan has been filed and accepted. Come on, we just have enough time to get back to the hotel and pack.'

One thing occurred to Molly that she had often wondered about in the past but had never felt it was her place to ask. 'But who is paying for all this Sherlock? Our hotel, hiring a private plane, limos...surely it's not the British Government?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'It depends on the cases. If I'm successful then Scotland Yard will cover the expenses though Lestrade does berate me if I ever use private planes...that doesn't happen often though. Mycroft covers the limos under the diplomatic service but the rest I pay for.'

Molly bit her lip and wondered whether she had any right to ask her next question but it seemed she didn't have to. He took one look at her face and rolled his eyes before smiling. 'Yes, Molly you can ask me personal questions now. The answer is I have a trust fund which adequately covers my living and working expenses plus being a Consulting Detective can be remarkably lucrative. I didn't used to bother much with the finance side but John negotiates all that with the clients now and arranges for payment. He takes a cut for his time and effort and banks the rest for me. He tells me that apparently I'm very wealthy.'

This just seemed to raise more questions from Molly. 'So why did you need John as a flatmate? I thought that was to reduce your bills.'

He smirked. 'It was. Mycroft was being a git. He restricted my access to my trust fund because of my drug usage. He gave me just enough for rent and food but not much else. That's why I started working and why I wanted John as a lodger. It gave me money to indulge my other hobbies. And no, I don't mean drugs...well, other than tobacco.'

'Once I hit thirty control fully passed to me but by then I was used to having John around so I kept the arrangement up.'

'Oh.' Molly wasn't sure why but knowing that Sherlock was rich as well as intelligent and gorgeous just seemed to put a dent in her confidence. He was so much out of her league in every way and she couldn't help but worry all over again that his being with her would just be a passing fad.

They'd just arrived back at the hotel though and Sherlock didn't seem to notice that Molly had withdrawn into herself as he booked them out of the room and arranged for a taxi to pick them up in twenty minutes to take them to the air field.

Once back in their room they silently packed up their belongings and it was only when they were giving the room a final once over to make sure that they hadn't missed anything that Sherlock caught hold of her and pulled her to him.

'Alright, what's going on in that head of yours? You've been almost completely silent since we got back.'

She could see his eyes scanning over her face looking for clues and she tried to smile but she knew it hadn't reached her eyes. 'It's OK. I'm fine.'

'But obviously you're not. Please...Molly...I'm not good at this...at being with someone emotionally and I'm going to get things wrong. I feel as though I've done something to hurt you but I've no idea what.'

She shook her head, 'it's not you. Not really. I just...I'm still struggling to understand why you want to be with me. I'm not posh or rich or beautiful. I'm not hyper intelligent or brave...I'm just...well I'm just me.'

She looked down as she said the last line not wanting to look into his eyes and see pity there.

'Oh Molly, you have no idea do you? And that's my fault. You've looked at my positive qualities which are sparse, now let's look at my negatives; I'm emotionally closed off from my friends and family, people in general; I'm impatient and intolerant particularly with stupidity; I lack compassion and empathy; I can be cold, distant and uncaring and that's before mentioning my addictions. In all these things you are so much richer than I am. You're a millionaire and I'm a beggar asking for crumbs at your feet.'

She finally looked up and started to realise the truth of what he was saying in the way he was looking at her.

'And Molly…the one thing I should have made clear from the start...to me...you are the most beautiful woman I know, inside and out. I'm lucky to have you...and I haven't even mentioned how good you are at giving blow jobs in cars.'

At that last he grinned and she couldn't help but laugh and mock punch his chest to cover her embarrassment.

'Now kiss me Molly. I find I'm becoming quite addicted to your kisses.'

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to reach him as he bent to meet her half way. As their lips met all her worries seemed to disappear. When she let her body take control instead of her mind she knew absolutely what she wanted and what he could give her.

They could easily have escalated the kiss but they were both painfully aware of time passing and their need to get to the air field but both were reluctant to part and were left wanting more when they finally did separate.

Sherlock picked up both their bags and led the way out of the room. 'You Molly Hooper are waking up parts of me I had forgotten even existed. How have I gone from nothing to wanting it all the time...and this is before we've even had intercourse?'

Molly smiled to herself but she did feel a little proud of how much affect she was having on him. She hoped the flight to Sochi wouldn't be too long; she was determined that tonight would be the night that she would have sex with him for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think...should I let them? You'll find out soon xxx


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, have I put you and them out of their frustrated misery? You'll have to read on to find out.

The flight took another six hours and by the time they made it to the hotel it was almost eight in the evening. Molly was starving but at least having another sleep on the plane meant she wasn't as exhausted as she could have been.

Sherlock had spent quite some time liaising with Mycroft who was in all kinds of discussions with various agencies in Russia that Molly was unfamiliar with, the MIA, the Investigative Committee. It sounded as though Mycroft was pulling in some huge favours and when she asked Sherlock about it he just smirked and said, 'after Eurus, he owes me one. Actually more than one but this will do for starters. No doubt his guilt will wear off soon and he won't be so forthcoming'.

They had finally had agreement that they could go to the local government office holding historic case records first thing the next day so for once it seemed like they actually had some time to themselves and Molly didn't want to waste any of it. As they arrived in their hotel room, which Molly noted with satisfaction was not just a double but probably more like a king size, they shrugged off their coats and dumped their bags on the floor. She mentioned food to Sherlock who scrunched his nose up. 'I suppose we could get something if we must...we did eat breakfast though.'

'I did! You didn't and I didn't see you eating anything on the plane either. I know you're on a case but you need to eat something.' She sighed and rolled her eyes. 'I suppose it's up to you though, you're a grown man.'

He narrowed his eyes. 'You packed a dress and heels so you hoped there would be some time together like this...you want a date...to be wined and dined...am I right?'

'Maybe...yes, yes I suppose I would.' She walked over to him and placed her hand on his chest, 'but not tonight. Tonight I just want room service and you.'

She saw him swallow heavily as the implication of her words sank in, then a smile spread across his face as his hands came up to hold her hips, 'you can order whatever you like Doctor Hooper from both me and the menu.' Then he bent his head to kiss her and it was so much more than Molly had ever expected. This time when they kissed they knew they had both time and privacy on their side. They had no commitments to anyone but each other for the next twelve hours and Molly, for one, intended to make the most of them.

The kiss was initially slow and romantic rather than passionate. It seemed to hold so much promise and emotion that it took Molly's breath away. It was a kiss like none she would ever have expected from a man like Sherlock, throwing into question everything she had ever thought about him. It made her realise, more than any of his words had done, that he truly had feelings for her. Finally he pulled away from her leaving her dazed and breathing heavily. His hand came up and caressed her face and he placed a single, tender kiss on her forehead.

'Do I have your permission Molly? I want so much more from you but I need to know that I have your permission.'

She looked into his eyes, those ever changeable, kaleidoscopic eyes and she knew that no matter what happened in the future, right now in this moment she wanted him, all of him, everything that he was prepared to give her. 'Yes, yes you have it.'

This time when his lips met hers the kiss was blisteringly passionate. His hands held her head so he could control the kiss, dominating her completely, and she felt herself losing her ability to think. All she could do was cling to him and feel everything he was offering her. She felt so aroused and so desperately in need of him. She knew she was tugging and pulling at his clothes needing to feel him, wanting his skin against hers.

It didn't take long for her to push his jacket off and then her hands scrabbled at the fastenings of his shirt trying to remember the basics of undoing a button. He broke the kiss long enough to pull her own top off over her head and then his mouth was on her neck and his hands were on her bra clad breasts. A few seconds later and he had it unclipped and that too was lost, thrown to the floor somewhere.

He guided her backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed and then gently lowered her down; covering her body with his own.

She loved the weight of him, the feel of him pressing her into the mattress. Automatically she brought her legs up around his hips and she could feel his erection pressing against her.

They kissed and their tongues tangled and danced with each other as he gently rocked against her, stimulating her and making her moan; his mouth swallowing the noise of it. Then he moved his lips along her jaw and down her neck as she brought her hands up to weave themselves into his curls. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment wondering how she had ever come to be making out with Sherlock Holmes...more than making out, God they were about to have sex and even the thought of it, of him, had her squirming and bucking her hips up in needy desire.

Her eyes fluttered shut again the moment his mouth closed around her aching nipple. His hands cupped her breasts as he moved from one to the other using his tongue and his teeth until she didn't know if she were feeling pain or pleasure anymore. All she knew was she desperately needed a release from this relentless torment.

She was able to catch her breath when he stood briefly, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and shedding it as well as removing his shoes and socks, then he was back with her unbuttoning her skirt and sliding it down her legs leaving her wearing nothing more than a pair of skimpy pants.

At his indication she moved further up the bed and then she watched, wide eyed as he moved her legs apart and slid his hands from her ankles to her inner thighs. Her pelvic muscles were clenching and unclenching at the thought of what he might do next and she knew it wouldn't take much to make her climax and she wanted it, she needed it so badly now.

Slowly he kissed his way up her inner thigh, from her knee to her knickers before kissing her through the damp material. She fell back onto the bed and arched her back, giving out an involuntary groan as her hands bunched the material of the bed covers.

He soon removed that final piece of clothing and Molly writhed on the bed needing his mouth and his touch; he didn't keep her waiting for long.

When he finally kissed her bare clit she could feel herself starting to unravel; enjoying that blissful moment of tension and build up before the actual climax, wanting to make it last as long as possible whilst at the same time longing for that final moment.

He used his tongue on her to good effect and Molly cried out feeling her muscles starting to convulse. She knew she was wet for him, she could hear the noise of his tongue as he used it to fuck her and drink her juices. The fact that it was him doing this just made it all the more arousing and erotic and as he replaced his tongue with his fingers and moved to suck her clit once more she climaxed with her eyes tight shut and her body bowing on the bed as she gripped his hair.

As she came back down from her high her senses returned one by one until she opened her eyes to see Sherlock sitting back on his knees looking down on her with lust filled eyes as he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. 'God Molly you are amazing.'

She sat up and her hands immediately went to the fastenings of his trousers. She could see the material straining to house his erection and she wanted it. She wanted him inside her, filling her and making her come again...and she had no doubt that she would. Even now she could feel lust swirling through her and a hollow sensation deep inside her that only he could fill.

She looked up at him as she unzipped his trousers and he immediately bent to kiss her. She could taste herself on his lips, sweet and yet tangy and it just made her ache for him. She had his cock in her grasp now and she could feel him bucking his hips towards her; needing the friction she was offering. She tightened her grip and let him thrust into her hand until he moaned and pulled away before pushing her gently back down onto the bed.

He stood and swiftly removed his trousers and pants. Molly couldn't help but watch; enjoying finally seeing him naked. His body was slim and muscular, an athletic build with his gorgeous cock jutting out in front of him. She had never seen a more beautiful sight and she knew she would never get enough of him. Finally he joined her on the bed once more; this time with no more barriers between them.

As she brought her legs up to his hips she guided him to her and then watched his face as he slowly pushed into her. She gasped at the feel of him finally filling her but that was nothing compared to the look of sheer unadulterated abandonment on his face. His eyes almost closed and his mouth opened as he let out a sigh of pure physical pleasure.

As he reached the limits of their bodies he stilled for a moment with his eyes closed, trying to compose his mind and control his body but Molly could feel him twitching and pulsing inside her and she knew he was close. She wondered just how long it had been since he had had sex but now was not the time to ask.

Slowly he withdrew before he plunged back in and each stroke, each action, each look at his face had Molly gasping and crying out as she felt another, greater orgasm building. She urged him on, kissing his long throat, biting on his neck; her hands on his backside pulling him into her harder and deeper.

She could hear him moaning and muttering, issuing expletives and telling her how good she felt; how wet; how warm.

Finally their needs overtook them and they moved and touched and kissed until Molly came and came hard with Sherlock following quickly; thrusting into her with a loud groan, a shudder running through him that made his muscles strain and clench. Molly just managed to open her eyes wanting to see his face in that moment and she revised her opinion on when he looked at his most beautiful. She felt privileged to have seen him so undone, in a moment where he was so open and vulnerable.

They collapsed together catching their breath and kissing whatever patch of skin they could reach until finally Sherlock rolled off her lying on his back with one arm over his chest and the other outstretched.

Molly made her way to the bathroom to clean up and exited a few moments later wearing one of the hotel gowns.

Sherlock leant on his elbow and scrunched up his nose. 'Why are you wearing that? I don't like it. I'd far rather see you naked.'

She chuckled and came back over to the bed and after grabbing one of the room service menus she lay next to him. 'Well I'd rather not order up food and eat it naked. I might spill something on myself, let alone the embarrassment of answering the door.'

He smirked. 'I am prepared to lick the food off your body should you spill any when you're naked.' She giggled and shuddered a little at the hand that was already creeping under the material of the gown and then toying with her nipple. She tried to concentrate on the food choice but he was being very distracting; especially when he replaced his hand with his mouth.

'What do you want?'

'Mmm...just order whatever you want I'll pick at it,' his words were muttered against her skin and she felt them through her whole body. She hadn't thought she would want him so much so soon after sex but she did. It was only her stomach rumbling that kept her on her mission to order food.

She chose something and phoned it down to reception trying to sound normal whilst Sherlock's fingers were playing with her curls at the apex of her thighs. She was sat on the edge the bed with the phone at her ear when he'd come up behind her, kneeling with a knee either side of her hips and she could feel he was already getting hard again as his hand moved around her waist and down.

By the time she put the phone down his fingers were inside her and she rested her head against his chest and let her own hand moved in circles on his thigh. She closed her eyes and moaned as he kissed her exposed collar bone.

'Th...they said it w..would be twenty minutes...' Was all she could get out before his other hand found her breast once more.

'Mmmm, then we have just enough time.' His voice was low and sent tremors through her body. She couldn't believe they were ready for sex again so soon but they were.

He pulled the gown from her body and coaxed her onto the bed until she was kneeling on all fours in front of him.

He leant over her and she could feel his erection rubbing against her making her push back, trying to impale herself onto him. His extra height meant he could cover her completely. His cock against her ass whilst his mouth was kissing her neck. His hand was back on her clit rubbing circles which had her mewling and begging for more.

He whispered in her ear, 'I suggest you find something to hold onto Molly because I intend to fuck you hard.'

With that he took hold of himself and pushed into her making her almost collapse forwards. He gave her chance to steady herself and she put her hands onto the headboard for stability as he thrust into her again and again and again. She could hear his skin slapping against hers and it felt dirty and wrong and yet oh so erotic. Her orgasm was building fast and she knew she was moaning his name over and over, begging for more and he gave it to her. He was grunting with the effort of keeping up such a pace, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her still, but she could tell he was close too.

One hand moved from her hip to her breast and he pinched her nipple hard, just the right side of the pleasure pain barrier and she came, crying out his name, feeling him falter as his own orgasm overtook him with a roar.

He wrapped his hand around her waist and they both fell down onto the bed covered in a sheen of sweat. 'God...Molly...what the hell have you done to me? I haven't needed sex like this...ever.'

Just then there was a knock at the door and a muffled voice called out 'room service.'

Molly groaned but Sherlock kissed her shoulder before he climbed off the bed. He caught up her robe and wrapped it around himself before answering the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go; two for the price of one. I know he didn't have much recovery time but he's had a long time abstinence to make up for. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, let me know.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm so glad you all enjoyed the sex and let me off the short recovery time. Now it's time to move the crime on a little and get our guys back to their home turf.

The next day turned out to be one of the longest in Molly's life, at least it felt that way. They were at the government offices by nine o'clock but spent the next hour waiting as various calls and checks were made; checks on their identities, their visas, their reason for being there. Calls were made to police chiefs, government officials both in London and Moscow and Mycroft was called on to vouch for them once again giving his own credentials.

Finally, with Sherlock almost ready to climb the walls in frustration, they were led through a maze of corridors, down two flights of stairs before finally ending up in a basement office filled with old files and an even older looking microfiche machines.

'Wow, I haven't seen one of these since I was at school in the 90's,' commented Molly as she let a finger slide over the old machine.

'Well, looks like you'll be reliving old times then because this is all we've got,' replied Sherlock grumpily.

Just then a young lad joined them. He must have been the equivalent of an apprentice or on work experience because Molly swore he couldn't be much older than nineteen. He smiled nervously at the two of them before launching into a stream of Russian.

Sherlock responded and the lad set to work pulling out folders and various boxes.

'Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way; Demetri and I will go through the files as they're all in Russian. He does have some news stories on microfiche, written in English so if you can view them and pull out any murder references which look appropriate then we can try to locate the files.

Sherlock said something else to the lad who disappeared from the office before returning ten minutes later with badly made coffees for each of them.

Molly wasn't sure what she had expected from working a case with Sherlock but it wasn't this. She'd had it in her head, and she blamed John Watson and his damn blog for this, that it was all running around hand in hand and lots of shouting and pointing. Not back breaking, boring file searches. Within a couple of hours her eyes were scratchy and sore and her back and neck were aching. She hadn't found anything useful and from the sounds of it, not that she could understand much of it, neither had Sherlock.

She sat back in her chair for a moment and closed her eyes as she rolled her shoulders and rubbed her neck. She let her mind drift back to that morning and she smiled at the recollection of their first time waking up together in the same bed.

She'd been the first to awake and she lay there for a moment revelling in the fact that she was wrapped up naked in Sherlock's arms. He had one hand brushing her breast and she could feel the full length of him against her back; their legs tangling together.

She let her fingers slide gently over the skin of his arm feeling the muscles and veins. As she did he stirred in his sleep and pressed himself against her slightly as he arched his back. The sudden realisation that his erection was pressed against her backside had her stifling a moan but she couldn't help the way she pressed back against him.

He responded with another stretch and this time his hand moved against her breast pressing his palm flat against it and using it to hold her close to him. He hummed and his mouth moved to the back of her neck kissing her just below her ear as he rocked his hips against her.

She linked her fingers with his as he kneaded her breast letting out a moan, telling him without words that she wanted more.

His hand moved down across her flat stomach until he found her curls. Her fingers were still linked with his and she pressed his hand to her clit as his fingers searched out her entrance. His mouth was still working at the skin on her neck and she vaguely wondered if she had any scarves she could use to cover up a love bite but then figured, as he let two fingers push their way into her, that she just didn't care.

Her moans now were louder and she could feel how hard and ready he was as he let his hand fuck her, but she wanted more, she wanted him.

Slowly she rolled over and he let his leg slide over her adding weight to his hand. As they started to kiss Molly could feel her orgasm starting and she knew her hips were rocking up to meet his hand as her muscles clenched and unclenched around him. No one had ever made her come as fast as Sherlock had; it was as though he were made for her.

As she caught her breath he moved over her and after removing his fingers he slowly filled her until she was gasping with pleasure. Her hands tangles with his hair, loving feeling his curls, wondering at how she came to be here in a foreign hotel suite making love with the one man she thought she would never be able to be with. It felt almost like a dream, a fantasy and she hoped she would never wake up.

Bit by bit his pace increased and his thrusts went deeper, causing shockwaves to ripple through her but it felt as though her first orgasm was just the starter and the main course was still to come. His voice...HIS voice whispering in her ear and saying her name had her coming a second time and this time he came with her, both of them crying out as their hands linked before riding out their climaxes with a kiss which left Molly breathless.

Sherlock sagged against her, catching his breath. 'Jesus, Molly I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of my life if that's what I can expect.'

She chuckled and it must have travelled through her body and into his, where they were still connected, because he let out a shudder and a moan. 'I would love to wake up with you every day but I'm not sure I'd have the stamina for sex like this each morning.'

She must have let out some noise because Sherlock disturbed her reminiscing bringing her back to the dusty basement and the endless searching.

'Care to tell me what you are thinking about Molly? It certainly sounds more interesting than this search and poor Demetri here is cringing with embarrassment.'

'Oh God no what did I do?'

'Nothing much, just let out a moan which, if we were anywhere else, would have me considering fucking you against a wall.'

Molly swivelled in her chair and looked at him in shock. 'Sherlock!' She gestured towards the teenager who thankfully seemed oblivious.

'Oh don't worry Molly he can't understand a word we're saying. So what were you thinking about...last night or this morning?'

She smiled. 'This morning. I just...well, I still can't believe we're together. I mean together together...oh you know what I mean.'

He smirked. 'Yes I think I do. Well how about the quicker we work the quicker we can get out of this god forsaken hell hole and the quicker we can be back home in Baker St and indulging in sex again.'

Molly didn't want to pick up on the fact that he'd implied Baker St was her home. She still worried that he was going to get spooked and change his mind or something but she smiled. 'Sounds good to me.' Then she turned back to the film slides and got back to work.

It was another slow, painful hour and a half before she found something which might be worthwhile.

Sherlock had finally found the file that the police officer in Georgia had referred to and it had helped him narrow down their search to a particular region. Molly had switched her records around to meet the new criteria and it was because of that that she found him.

The paper was reporting on the murder of a student. She was popular and had been involved with a few different guys all of which had been interviewed but her murder had gone unsolved. As Molly traced the case through the news reports she had come across a class photo reproduced in the paper with the victim's face circled. She had been looking at the girl, so happy and unaware of her imminent demise when she had seen him and cried out in shock.

Sherlock was immediately at her shoulder. 'What? What is it?'

'I...I was following this murder case. It didn't seem to fit ours particularly but I thought I should check but...but then...' She lifted her finger and pointed to the young man stood two rows behind the victim. He was a lot younger but still very recognisable. It was Peter Michaels, her boyfriend up until a few nights ago.

Sherlock kissed her hard on her cheek and then indicated for her to stand up so he could take her place at the machine. 'Oh Molly, this is brilliant. We've got him. This must have been his first murder.'

He scanned over the details and barked something to Demetri who had been watching them curiously. As soon as Sherlock spoke the lad was in his feet and hunting through the archives; no doubt looking for the case file.

As the boy continued his search Sherlock stood taking his phone out of his jacket and checking for a signal. He must have had some because he was soon dialling a number and waiting to be connected. A few moments later and Molly had worked out that he had phoned Greg Lestrade back in London.

'It's too much of a coincidence to expect him not to be connected...Lestrade. The man we're looking for is a Russian national going by the name of Peter Michaels...was Petyr Mikeladze.'

He huffed in frustration as he had to spell the name out for the Detective Inspector. 'He's working as an electrician. Molly...his number...hang on...'

Molly scrambled for her bag and pulled out her phone, quickly finding Peter's mobile number which she recited for Sherlock listening as he passed it on. 'Any other details Molly?'

'He mentioned living in Bethnal Green and he was hired by my landlord so he might know more.'

Again Sherlock relayed this to Lestrade. 'His English is good...very good. I didn't pick up any trace of an accent. We'll carry on checking here but I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't have English relatives. Ring me if you find anything.'

He paused listening to Lestrade. 'Yes...yes...we should be back tomorrow morning but I'll text when we know more.'

As he got off the phone Demetri came up to him holding a box and looking triumphant. Sherlock slapped him on the shoulder and said something to him before taking the box and starting to unload the contents. As the murder was an unsolved cold case it seemed all the evidence was still available so there was plenty to go through. Molly just found it frustrating that she couldn't help more due to the language barrier but she was able to view and comment on the autopsy pictures. It wasn't much but at least it was something to make her feel more useful.

The afternoon wore on into the early evening and Sherlock seemed to be in no rush to leave. The trail that started with Peter and his classmate had led on to two more murders both increasingly showing more similarities with the current murders. Sherlock also had some of Peter's back history which included a father from Georgia and a mother from Manchester in England. It seemed she had returned to the UK just before the first murder and Peter had followed his mother out there just over a year ago. He'd had ten years of murdering in Russia and had now exported his skills into the UK.

Some of the detail Molly saw made her feel ill. To know that she had been seeing this man, that she had kissed him and liked him and contemplated sleeping with him. Sherlock hadn't said anything but she knew he must be adding Peter to his list of "psychopaths Molly Hooper has dated." What was wrong with her, why did she always seem to attract and get attracted to this kind of man...surely she couldn't blame it all on them wanting to get close to Sherlock?

He glanced up at her once or twice as he was working and as she was thinking and she saw him narrow his eyes as though trying to deduce her. Each time she tried to give him a smile but she knew her heart wasn't in it.

Finally, just before seven and after a long conversation with Demetri's boss, none of which Molly understood, he finally picked up his coat. 'I think we've seen everything we need to here. They've promised to send over any further information they find and they may even ask for extradition when we locate him so he can stand trial for the murders that we've linked together here.'

Molly stretched, eager to be out of that suffocating room. She couldn't wait to be home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I slipped (fnar, fnar) another bout of sex in there but I just couldn't resist. So had any of you guessed the murderer?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I was busy at the weekend, this time with fun family stuff, and I meant to post it Monday but I got caught up writing a new fic (which you'll hopefully enjoy soon) and I completely forgot. 
> 
> I am abject before you and beg your forgiveness and offer this chapter as payment.

Two hours later and they were back in their old, but friendly, private jet and heading back to England. Sherlock had stretched out across some of the seats, with his feet overhanging the arm rest, and he'd sunk into his mind palace leaving Molly to her own devices. She ended up having a long conversation with the steward who seemed friendly if not the brightest. He was fascinated by her job and Sherlock's and had asked her a hundred or more questions before his colleague, who turned out to be his mother, sent him to make some food.

She was looking out of the window and sipping on a glass of cheap wine when Sherlock finally spoke.

'You know we've inadvertently made things worse don't you?'

She turned to him to see him starting to sit up across the aisle from her. 'No, how?'

Sherlock stood and made his way over to sit beside her.

'There's a pattern...his first victim was a girl who was rumoured to be sleeping around; and his mother left his father for another man a year before that. The prostitutes that he's killed are all obviously women who are promiscuous.'

Molly frowned. 'OK but where do we come into this?'

Sherlock paused for a moment but then answered. 'Well, you were dating him...right up until he caught you cheating with me...'

He let the sentence hang in the air between them as he watched Molly put together the pieces.

'So he kills women who are unfaithful or promiscuous and you think he'll feel slighted by my betrayal and come after me.'

Sherlock tilted his head in acknowledgment. 'Don't you? He'd targeted you because of your proximity to me; this will just have riled him further.'

'I don't want to believe it but yes, you're probably right.'

'So you agree that you need to move in to Baker St when we arrive back? I need you close by me so I can protect you.'

Molly bit her lip and looked out of the window at the endless darkness surrounding them. She didn't want fear to be her motivator for moving in with Sherlock but she also accepted the truth, she was at risk.

'Well for now, we can make a long term decision based on our relationship later. Anyway, on the upside it will be quicker for me to get to work from your place so it's not all bad.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Don't be ridiculous you're not going to work, it's far too dangerous.'

Molly was shocked by his assumption. 'What do you mean I'm not going to work, of course I'm going to work...it may have failed to cross your mind but it's my job, it's how I earn a living. I've already taken time off at short notice but if Mike knows I'm back he'll expect me to be in.'

'Pfft, he can cope without you; it's only run of the mill stuff, nothing they need you for.'

'It might well be run of the mill but that's what I do. I can't not turn up.'

'But the danger...'

'I'm hardly going to be in danger in the middle of a hospital. I can talk to Mike and make sure I'm not working alone or working the night shift or something but I will be going in so live with it.'

Sherlock opened his mouth to give out some no doubt biting retort and Molly quickly put her fingers over his lips. 'Don't...please, this is important to me. Find a way to make it work.'

He narrowed his eyes as she stared him down and then nodded his head briefly. She smiled and moved her hand but he caught it and brought her fingers back to his lips so he could press a kiss to the tips.

'I'll agree on the condition that you let me get Mycroft to arrange security and until then either myself or John will take you to work and bring you back...and no going out of the hospital alone.'

Molly rolled her eyes but agreed. She was secretly glad of the protection, knowing that Peter was out there and potentially targeting her was scarier than she'd let on.

The rest of the flight was fairly uneventful, Sherlock had swivelled round in his seat so he could lie back down, this time with his head in Molly's lap and she had enjoyed making him hum with delight as she had run her hands through his hair, scraping her nails slowly over his scalp.

He'd briefly opened his eyes at one point and fixed her with a sultry gaze, 'I hope you know that I'm going to fuck you as soon as I get you home Dr Hooper.'

She swallowed heavily and felt lust pooling between her legs at his seductively low baritone but she responded in kind. 'Not if I don't fuck you first.'

They smiled at each other and Molly was surprised by just how natural it all felt.

The journey from that point on had been tedious and overly charged with anticipation of the night to come. By the time they pulled into Baker St Molly felt so horny that she wondered if they'd make it much further past the door. Mrs Hudson put paid to any amorous plans she might have had though as she came out of her flat before Molly could even turn to kiss Sherlock.

'Ooo oo you're back are you? Oh and you too Molly dear, will you be staying over? I can always make up John's old room if you need me to.'

'That won't be necessary Mrs Hudson, Molly will be in my room.'

'In your room,' the shock and disbelief in the older woman's voice was evident. 'Will you be on the couch then Sherlock?'

'None of your business Mrs Hudson. Come on Molly, it's late and we have lots to do.' He smirked and winked behind the old woman's back before making his way to the stairs.

Mrs Hudson shook her head but as Molly said good night to her she added that she would expect Molly to tell all over a cuppa the next day. Molly couldn't help but blush and agree.

She followed Sherlock up the stairs to his flat and tried to ignore the fact that her stomach was flip flopping. It all seemed so much more real now they were back in London, not just some weird holiday fling.

He strode through the door and threw his bag on the settee and hooked Molly's from her in turn quickly ridding her of it. Then he closed the door behind her and pushed her up against it; his hands already rucking her skirt up as he ran his palms up her legs.

'I'm not even sure I can be bothered with all the undressing Molly, I've been wanting to fuck you since we were half way across Europe. No, I tell a lie...it's since I heard you moaning in that filing room.'

He picked her up easily and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist as his mouth met hers in a bruising kiss. Immediately his tongue invaded her mouth and he held her in place, against the door, with his hips, as his hands worked to remove her coat and unbutton the top of her blouse just enough that he could move the cup of her bra down and capture her breast with his mouth.

Molly found herself groaning at his assault. Her arousal had grown exponentially since they had entered his flat and she just needed to feel him inside her. She didn't need any foreplay or build up, she just wanted hard, fast, brutal sex that would leave her breathless and sated.

Her own hands moved to the fastenings on his trousers and she made quick work of the buttons and zip then she pressed her hand against his erection feeling him twitch and pulse in response. He wrapped one arm around her waist to lift her high enough so he could move her knickers to one side and position himself, then Molly felt herself sliding down onto him in a way that left her stretched and gasping at the overwhelming sensation of it.

As he started to move and thrust inside her she tried to be quiet so as to not disturb Mrs Hudson but she couldn't help it, each movement brought fresh moans and cries from her as she felt her climax building with every move of his hips. It didn't help that he was being just as vocal telling her how good she felt and how hard he wanted to fuck her. The door that she was leaning against was creaking and banging with every thrust and Molly could feel herself getting closer and closer as she called out his name over and over.

His lips were on her neck and she could feel him biting and sucking at the skin marking her even as his hand pulled and pinched on her nipple and as she climaxed she could feel him shudder and falter before he gave a final deep thrust and came himself with a loud groan.

He slid down to the floor still holding onto her, still intimately joined, and he pulled her to him for another passionate kiss which almost had her body reacting and wanting him all over again.

Finally he released her and he fell back onto his elbows as he watched her standing and making her way to the bathroom. 'God, I needed that' was all he could come out with and Molly smiled over her shoulder at hearing him sound so undone.

She checked her watch to find it was after midnight and all of a sudden the events of the day and all the travelling seemed to catch up with her at once. She could barely keep her eyes open, let alone shower or change for bed. She spoke to Sherlock as she came out of the bathroom and he stated his intent to stay up working for a few hours.

'Make yourself at home in my room, I'll be in later maybe.' He was already half distracted having thrown off his coat and jacket and was even now switching on his laptop,

In the end Molly just threw off her clothes and climbed into his bed naked. His sheets and mattress felt deliciously expensive and she loved the fact that his room smelt of him and of his familiar cologne. She wished she could stay awake long enough to share the bed with him but she knew she couldn't; she was exhausted. She was just glad that she didn't need to be in work the next day, so at least she could enjoy a lie in and maybe there would be time to enjoy sharing his bed with him then.

But when she did finally wake up the next morning it was to an empty bed. There were signs that Sherlock had been in the room to change, his suit from the day before thrown on the chair, but no sign that he had joined her in the bed.

She got up and, after finding a spare dressing gown, she went to see if he were still in the front room but when she got there it was all quiet. She turned to make her way back to the bathroom, so she could shower and brush her teeth, when a message written on the mirror caught her eye

**Don't leave the flat!**

It had been written in lipstick and she scowled when she realised it was one of her own, taken from her bag and left on the mantelpiece. She swore lightly under her breath as she picked it up and checked the damage.

In the end she had breakfast and took a leisurely bath, enjoying being able to indulge in a nice, hot bubble bath. She then dressed and called her neighbour to see how Toby was getting on and arranging to hopefully pick him up later that day. An hour later though and she was bored so she decided to pop down and see if Mrs Hudson was around. She felt in the mood for some company and she had no idea how long Sherlock might be. She could have texted him but she knew that if he were busy with the case he probably wouldn't respond and she didn't want to seem too needy or pestering.

Thankfully Sherlock's long-suffering landlady was in and she answered the door wiping her flour covered hands on a tea towel.

'Hello Molly dear, come on in. I was just making some biscuits, Sherlock's favourites. Oh he makes out he doesn't eat much when he's on a case but he raids my fridge and biscuit box every time he comes to my flat so I like to keep it well stocked.'

Molly made her way into the warm, welcoming flat and let a happy smile spread across her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all is going well, the case is moving on, their relationship is going well. Molly's happy and secure...something has to go disastrously wrong doesn't it?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to my normal schedule this week, so here's your Sunday update. Enjoy...if you can...

Molly hadn't often visited Mrs Hudson, only a couple of times when Sherlock had been 'dead' and those times it had been awful as she had had to pretend and lie in the face of Mrs Hudson's grief. This felt like the first time she could be honest and fully herself.

The flat was cosy and welcoming as was her hostess who led her through to the small kitchen at the back which was filled with the delicious smell of baking cookies.

'Let me put the kettle on and then you can tell me all about you and Sherlock. From the noise last night it sounds as though he's satisfying you the way he ought to.'

Molly was glad in that moment that she hadn't been drinking or eating anything as odds on she would have spat it out over the kitchen table that she'd just sat down at.

The older woman shook her head and chuckled. 'I don't know why you're looking so surprised Molly Hooper. I'm old but I'm not dead or deaf.' She clasped her hands together and smiled. 'Oh, I remember when my husband and I first got together, we literally couldn't keep our hands off each other and he was so good in bed, I never had so many orgasms. Anyway, I'm happy for you and Sherlock, you suit each other and he needs someone to look after him. I do my best but it's not the same as him having a girlfriend or boyfriend and since John moved out he's been lonely...I can tell.'

After the initial shock of having such an open and frank conversation with Sherlock's landlady the two of them spent a happy couple of hours chatting and gossiping until Molly heard the front door slam and Sherlock's footsteps running up the stairs.

She stood and was saying her goodbyes to Mrs Hudson when she heard him bellowing her name down the stairs as he came looking for her.

By the time she exited the flat he was half way back down the stairs with a concerned look on his face which relaxed the moment he saw her.

'Good, you're still here. John's come over to help in the search for Micheals, We've got about an hour before I'm due to meet Lestrade at Scotland Yard.'

Molly asked him about whether she could pick up some clothes from her flat and her cat and they finally agreed that she could go so long as John went with her.

John made some cups of coffee whilst Sherlock brought Molly up to speed on the case. There had been another murder which tied in with the previous cases and he wanted her to double-check the autopsy findings when she was in work the next day. He had started to narrow down the part of London that Micheals seemed to use the most, the warehouses where he kept the women as he tortured and killed them. Molly hated hearing the details knowing that she might well be one of the women he was targeting.

Now they knew who he was they were able to find links between him and the victims, most of whom were prostitutes that he had used in the past. It seemed that whilst he enjoyed visiting hookers he hated their profession and the fact that they sold themselves for sex.

'It seems his motivation is all very predictable and so very common. He's just been fortunate that he's moved around so much so the pattern was never recognised before. He must know we're closing in on him. My concern is that he'll run. Lestrade has sent his information to the border control agencies but if Michaels really wants to leave the country he will. The next 24 hours are critical. I'm going to work at Barts with you tomorrow...I don't like the idea of you being unprotected.'

Molly couldn't help but feel relieved that he'd be there with her. She wanted to be strong and independent but what she had seen Peter do had scared her. He was brutal and cruel, the deaths of these women were rarely quick and she didn't want to be his next victim; she didn't want anyone to be his next victim.

When Sherlock was finally ready to leave the flat he came over to Molly and gave her a bruising kiss and it was only when she heard an intake of breath from John, stood waiting by the door, that Molly remembered that he probably didn't know about herself and Sherlock.

As they broke apart John turned to his friend. 'So, do you want to tell me when this happened?'

Sherlock frowned. 'Not really, I have more important things to do. Just promise me you won't leave Molly unattended until she's safely back here. Text me before you leave.'

With that he left the flat leaving Molly nervously biting her lip as John turned to her raising his eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

She gave him one as they made their way by taxi to her flat and she listened in awe as he told her that Mary had predicted it months ago.

'She would have been unbearably smug to know she'd been proved right. And I did always wonder after hearing Sherlock telling you he loved you...that second time was so...well, it seemed so real. I think I knew it then even if he denied it.' John frowned as he thought back to those days after their incarceration by Eurus. 'Though now I come to think of it he never did actually deny it, he never really said anything, it was just assumed and he didn't correct it.'

He sighed and washed a hand over his face and Molly could see his exhaustion. Looking after Rosie alone and holding down a job and Sherlock was slowly killing him and she made a mental note to talk to Sherlock about how they could help him more.

'I should have seen he was repressing it, ignoring it. I should have said something.'

Molly put her hand on his arm and gave him a small smile. 'I'm not sure that it's love for Sherlock, but he cares. Don't beat yourself up. There was so much going on back then and we were all still reeling from Mary and then Eurus happened...but it's working itself out, it's all going to be good.'

They had finally reached Molly's flat when her phone rang. She checked the screen. 'It's Mike at work...hang on.'

She took the call.

'Molly, thank goodness you're back. Listen I know you aren't down for working tonight but I'm in a real bind. Barry is off long term sick as you know, Richard has been in a car accident and I can't get hold of Lillian. I've been on since six this morning and if you can cover the late shift I can cover your shift tomorrow. You'll get double time...what do you think?'

Molly was used to this kind of call, they'd been short staffed for a while and they were all juggling weird shift patterns. She was glad she'd had a good night's sleep though because going into a late shift wouldn't have been easy otherwise.

'OK! Give me half an hour and I'll be in.'

She updated John and explained she needed to change for work and then set off.

'Fine, I'll make sure you get safely to Barts and then I'll let Sherlock know in case he wants to come and join you.'

By the time they got to Barts it was already getting dark and Molly noticed John kept glancing at his watch.

'You know I'll be alright now I'm here. It's safe enough, you know it is. You get off home to Rosie, I'm sure Sherlock will be here soon but even if he isn't I'm surrounded by staff so nothing will happen to me here.'

John reluctantly agreed kissing Molly on her cheek as he said goodbye. 'You know I didn't say this earlier but I think you and Sherlock will be good together. He's come a long way since I first met him and...well, he's better since he finally accepted he has feelings and emotions. Just be firm with him and don't put up with any nonsense.'

Molly chuckled. 'Don't worry I won't.'

She watched as John walked away and then she made her way into the morgue putting on her lab coat as she greeted Mike. They discussed any hand over cases for ten minutes or so but he soon made his own way out, he looked so tired and Molly felt a little guilty for having taken time off with such short notice, it had obviously put him under a lot of pressure.

It was only when he had left that she started to feel a little nervous. The morgue was always quiet at this time of night, it wasn't a busy area of the hospital at the best of times and it was even less so after dark. People avoided the place. It was just that the silence seemed more oppressive than normal and she found herself jumping and reacting to every noise.

'Get a grip Molly,' she whispered to herself but she still glanced at her watch and wondered how long Sherlock would be. She hated feeling so defenceless and it made her look around to see how she could better protect herself and make herself feel stronger. She didn't want to feel as though she always needed a man to keep her safe.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was angry; angry with himself and angry with John. He was in a cab on his way to Barts and he had been trying to ring Molly for the last ten minutes. He knew it was probably the fact that she had left her phone in her locker or that it was out of charge but that didn't make him feel any less concerned. He punched the seat when he was taken to her answer phone yet again and he ignored the grumblings of the cab driver.

He had turned his phone to silent when he went on a stake out with Lestrade of Michael's flat so he hadn't received the messages from John informing him that he was escorting Molly to work. By the time he'd picked them up he'd calculated that she had been unprotected for almost two hours and he knew that anything could have happened in that time and if it had he'd never forgive himself.

It didn't help that the stake out had turned out to be mostly a bust. By the time they entered the flat it was obvious to Sherlock that it was just a front, an address used for employment and official purposes but not where Michaels was actually living. Sherlock calculated he'd probably slept there less than a dozen times in the last year.

The cab turned into Smithfields and Sherlock immediately knew that his worst fears were being realised. He was out of the cab and running, throwing notes at the driver not caring about the amount, intent only on checking that Molly was safe.

He grabbed the shoulder of the first staff member he saw. 'What happened here? Tell me.'

The young, male nurse looked surprised but answered quickly enough. 'Fire alarm in the block housing pathology, oncology and ophthalmology. Just a false alarm, we're being told we can head back in now.'

Sherlock pushed past the man and headed into the groups of people making their way back inside, looking for anyone he recognised who might know where Molly was. He spied one of her friends and made his way over.

'Hey you, do you know where Molly Hooper is?'

The young Indian woman obviously recognised him. 'The name's Meena, thanks for asking.'

'Do you know where Molly is?'

She must have sensed his desperation because this time she looked concerned. 'I...no, I didn't think she was due in tonight.'

'She wasn't, apparently Stamford asked her to cover. Is there anyone else here from pathology?'

They were entering the hospital through one of the side fire doors and Meena looked around the small group heading down towards the labs and morgue.

She must have spotted someone because she called out. 'Hey, Jake. Have you seen Molly?'

A thirty something guy built like a rugby player came over. 'Molly? She came out with us but I lost track of her haven't seen her since the alarm stopped.'

A sick, nauseating feeling of dread drizzled down Sherlock's spine and was settling low in his stomach. He was already dialling Lestrade, they needed to organise a search, check the CCTV footage...

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly's head was banging and her mouth felt dry and as she started to come to she realised those symptoms were only the start of her problems. She let her eyes flutter open; squinting against the harsh, bright light from the fluorescent tubes above her head. She seemed to be in what felt like a freezing cold warehouse and she was tied to an old, metal framed chair. As soon as she realised that fact she started to struggle and pull at her restraints crying out as they dug deeper into her wrists and ankles cutting the skin.

She looked at her arms and saw they were tied to the arms of the chair by cable ties which were painfully tight. Her ankles felt as though they had been similarly restrained.

She let out a slight sob as she realised her predicament. Her last memory was leaving the hospital with the rest of the staff on hearing the fire alarm going off. She had tried her phone only to find it was dead. She wondered whether to go and use the landline to call Sherlock but the area Fire Marshall was chivvying them along whilst he chatted into his phone, trying to find out if this was a drill or for real. She remembered how chilly it was outside but then...nothing.

Fear washed over her at the precariousness of her situation. She had been stripped down to her underwear and was being held by a serial killer in an unknown location and Sherlock probably didn't even know she was missing...it couldn't get much worse.

And then it did, she heard the door opening behind her and when she turned her head, ignoring the wave of dizziness which came with it, she saw Peter making his way towards her with such a look of hatred on his face that it made her stomach turn. She didn't want to die, not now, not like this...she didn't want to die without seeing Sherlock one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, here's the bump in the road...and it had all been going so well. Let me know what you think and how it might all pan out. Anyway, sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger, I'll be back soon xxx


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in this chapter for violence and threats of rape. If you need to know more before reading please message me.

'I see you're finally awake. I worried for a moment there that I might have overdosed you. Wouldn't want you to miss out on all the fun now would we.'

'P..Peter...please, you have to let me go. I never meant for you to be hurt. It wasn't intentional.'

'No, it never is. It's funny that's what you all say.' He put on a high pitched voice. 'I'm sorry, please don't kill me, please don't hurt me, I'll be good.'

He slapped her hard across the face and Molly choked at the pain of it. She had never been hit before and the shock and the hurt took her breath away. It was a moment before she realised that he was still talking.

'...fucking bitches are all the same...whores the lot of you, selling yourselves to any man. You act like you're all high and mighty...a doctor, all fucking butter wouldn't melt in your mouth but as soon as my back was turned you were fucking that detective...'

'No, no I wasn't, I promise. But you have to understand, he will find you, he's not like other men.'

'Oh yes, your country's great detective Sherlock Holmes. He's made this so much more fun. I'd been getting a bit bored, always getting away with it, no one even noticing. That reminds me, I must send him another photo, that last one; well...he might not even bother looking...you looked so dead in it. Pig's blood smeared across your neck and chest can look so effective.'

Molly looked down at herself seeing blood, a lot of blood, sticky and coagulated on her chest. She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about how Sherlock would have felt seeing her like this and possibly believing she was already dead.

'Even if he does find me, and he won't, it'll be too late for you. I will have screwed you every way possible...your cunt..' He grabbed Molly roughly between her legs making her gasp with fear at what he might do to her. '...your ass and your dirty, whorish mouth.'

He put his hand to her mouth and forced her lips open with his filthy fingers pushing past her teeth. She wanted to gag or bite down but he was too strong.

'Maybe I should have some fun now, make you choke on my cock...leave you with a taste of what is to come.'

He started to reach for his trousers, undoing the top button, and Molly had to struggled not to sob...she was determined he wouldn't see her fear but it was overwhelming her...she was shaking with it. Her eyes were wide; watching his every move, dreading what was to come.

His phone buzzed and he swore under his breath but thankfully let Molly go as he withdrew it from his pocket. He read the text and his face twisted in anger.

'Useless fucking bitch...' he seemed to be saying it more to the screen than Molly but then he turned back to her. 'You are lucky, for now, but not for much longer.' Then he bent over her and forced a kiss on her. The action which had once been so welcome now repulsed her completely. Thankfully, when he had finished, he left the room but not before tying a filthy rag as a gag around her face and in her mouth. 'Wouldn't want you making any noise now would I?' He laughed as he painfully squeezed her cheeks until tears leaked from her eyes.

Molly gave herself a moment to catch her breath after he had left, listening as intently as she could; hearing his footsteps moving away. She had to assume she was alone, she couldn't rely on Sherlock finding her in time and she was eternally grateful that she had planned for this eventuality.

She ignored the pounding in her head as she bent forward until her chest was against her right hand then she carefully felt under the edge of her bra where she had earlier wedged a covered scalpel. She had to go slowly, terrified that she might accidentally drop the blade, if that happened she knew she'd have nothing.

When she was finally holding the tool she removed the plastic shield with her thumb letting it drop onto the floor; then she had to try to cut the tie. It was slow going, the angle she was working at meant she had no power and she kept missing the cable tie and painfully cutting her skin, biting back her cries of pain each time it happened.

She was bleeding heavily from her wrist by the time the plastic finally gave way but she ignored the wound, finding she'd rather bleed out that still be in this room when Peter came back. The other ties gave way easily to the sharp scalpel and she tore the rag from her mouth, quickly wrapping it around her bleeding wrist, as she shakily got to her feet.

There was no time to waste looking for her clothes instead she hurriedly and as quietly as she could made her way over to the door listening to see if she could hear anything.

As she put her hand on the handle she found she was silently praying that the door would be unlocked and she almost cried with relief when the door cracked open.

She found the stairs and started to make her way down. She was on her way past the next floor down when she heard the faint sound of footsteps coming up from below and the jolt of her heart in her chest had her slapping a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from making any noise. She knew that every part of her was shaking in terror but she refused to give in. Instead she swiftly opened the nearest door and slipped through, closing it behind her.

There wasn't much light in the room, just moonlight coming in from outside, but it was enough. She ran over to the window and looked out. She seemed to be on the first floor of a warehouse and about ten feet up. In normal circumstances she would never have considered jumping from such a height, but these weren't normal circumstances and she needed to put as much distance between herself and Peter as possible.

The window catch was old and stiff and Molly's arms were still sore from her ordeal but she managed to get it open. She tried not to think about what she was doing as she swung her legs over the opening, edging over until she was on her stomach and then down until for a moment she dangled by her arms before her muscles gave way and she fell.

She landed awkwardly and cried out in pain as her foot hit a rock and twisted over badly. Tears sprang into her eyes clouding her vision but she didn't stop. She swiped at them angrily as she looked up; checking she hadn't been heard, then she forced herself to stand. She winced in agony as she tried to put weight on her left foot but it wasn't broken and she could still limp so that was what she did. She moved as fast as she could towards the back of the warehouse opposite.

As she circled around it she found an old metal pipe which she used as a makeshift stick to help her but she was conscious that she was still moving too slowly. If Peter had found out she was gone how long would it take him to follow her trail, she had probably left spots of blood from her wrist, the window was open where she'd jumped. He could be following her even now.

Her fear felt almost cancerous, it was a solid lump in her throat, a hollow, sick feeling in her stomach, it caused the sheen of sweat on her skin even though the night air was freezing cold. It was almost crippling her and it took every ounce of willpower to keep moving and not just give up.

Her mind was focused on the images of Sherlock that flashed through her head like a slideshow and made her wonder if this is what people talked of when they described their life flashing before their eyes when they were moments from death.

Then she heard a noise behind her, in the direction that she had come from, and for a split second her whole body froze. He was coming for her.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

By the time Sherlock received the image of Molly he had set up a command centre in the lab at Barts. He had been barking orders at various people either in person or on his phone for the past half an hour. He had sent Greg on a special mission whilst his team were scouring the CCTV footage around Barts, his homeless network had been sent photos of Molly and Peter and they were also checking out various industrial estates and sending information about any empty units.

John had come back in after Sherlock had sent Mrs Hudson round to his place to look after Rosie and by the time he arrived he could see that Sherlock was holding on by a thread, he had never seen him quite so manic. He was on the phone to his brother and John could feel the tension coming off of him in waves. It brought back the sort of memories which still had John waking in terror in the middle of the night and he had to fist his hands to give him the strength to keep moving towards his best friend. It looked as though Sherlock needed him more now than ever.

'...well it's too little too late Mycroft. Another failure in a long list of failures when it comes to our family.'

Sherlock slammed his phone down on the side so hard that John feared it must have broken. Before he could even say anything Sherlock was updating him on everything that had happened, talking at breakneck speed which had John struggling to keep up. He knew it was a defence mechanism, a way for his friend to keep his emotions and feelings at bay.

'Molly was taken at 7.25. The fire alarms were set off in a corridor used by cleaners and maintenance. The back door was open whilst they were sorting out the bins and anyone could and obviously did walk in. There was no CCTV footage. Greg is looking at the surrounding streets but so far nothing, my homeless network have Molly's details and those of Michaels. They're also checking out warehouses within a five mile radius, sending me details of those than are unused and what they were previously used for where known, I'm building a map of them so we can...'

John put his hand on Sherlock's arm breaking the flow of information. 'Sherlock...this isn't your fault.'

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. 'Well I know that, but that won't make any difference if Molly is...if she's...listen if you aren't going to do anything but distract me there's really no point in you being here.'

John was about to reply when Sherlock's phone buzzed with an incoming message.

For a moment John saw his friend's face light up.

'It's from Molly...'

But in less than a heartbeat his expression changed to one of horror. John saw him stagger back until he hit the lab desk behind him and then he slid down it still holding the phone and staring at whatever he had been sent. John sank to his knees beside his friend, feeling a pit of dread opening up inside him. Please God don't let anything happen to Molly...not her as well.

'Sherlock...Sherlock what is it...what has she sent you?'

Sherlock passed the phone over and John saw that his hands were visibly shaking. As soon as John had taken the phone Sherlock put his hands over his face.

John turned the phone to face him and all his worse fears seemed to rise up. It was a photo of Molly. She was sat cable tied to a chair, almost naked, her head had fallen to one side and her eyes were staring unseeing towards the camera. There was a thick, slick of blood across her neck and down her chest.

John could feel bile rising in his throat but he ignored it. Now was not the time for him to fall apart. Sherlock needed him and he'd damn well be there for him.

His own hands were shaking now as he took a moment to examine Molly in closer detail. He pinched the picture out to zoom in, moving the image from side to side, up and down. He checked her eyes, her skin tone and that apparent neck wound until he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game is on. I tried to make it as realistic as possible regarding their reactions, let me know how I've done.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I haven't mentioned this yet but I'm off to see Andrew Scott in Hamlet on Thursday this week and I'm so excited. I probably won't be able to post the next update until after then so I shall tell you all what I thought and whether I managed to get a photo or autograph (keeping more than just my fingers crossed for that).

John pulled Sherlock's hands from his face.

'Sherlock, Sherlock...look at me. This isn't over. It's a fake, she isn't dead. Why would he do this?'

Sherlock frowned but sat more upright pulling the phone from his friend's grasp.

'Talk to me.'

John talked through the main points, how her skin tone looked wrong, too flushed. Her eyes whilst open and unseeing weren't filmy in any way. The way her head was tilted was normal for someone unconscious and there was no evidence of any actual damage to her neck, even though it was difficult to see with that amount of blood.

As Sherlock listened he nodded in agreement. John knew that just for a moment he'd been blind-sided by his feelings for Molly but the energy was returning, the detective within the man.

A minute later and they were stood looking at a higher resolution image of the photo on one of the hospital computers. John could see that Sherlock was at the height of his deductive powers as he rattled off clue after clue. Within seconds he'd deduced the type of warehouse, its construction, its previous use and most importantly, from the lights of a building showing through the corner of the one window in shot, it's location.

'I know where she is...come on; there's no time to lose.'

As they ran down the corridors John could feel the familiar burst of adrenaline that working a case with Sherlock always gave him. It didn't matter how many times he tried to give up the danger, the thrill of it, the excitement, always drew him back in.

Sherlock gave instructions to the cab driver and as they sat back in the taxi it was John's first opportunity to ask any questions.

'Shouldn't we tell Lestrade? Surely it will be quicker for him to send out some patrol cars, they must be nearer.'

Sherlock glanced up from his phone where he was busy firing off texts. 'Yes, no doubt but then I'd be trusting Molly's life to imbeciles. If this monster gets any indication that the police are there he'll slit Molly's throat for real. We can't take any chances; I have to do this myself.'

It was a tense journey and John wished there was something he could say to make Sherlock feel better but he knew from his own experience that it was futile. When Mary had died people had meant well but everything they had said had sounded clichéd and trite; platitudes which sounded good but changed nothing. And more than anything John was worried that if anything happened to Molly it would be the one thing that Sherlock would never come back from. He would lose his friend for good, to drugs, to suicide; and John couldn't face any more loss.

By the time they arrived at the industrial estate just west of Hampstead Heath it was fully dark. Sherlock made sure the cab stopped far enough away to not be a giveaway and the two men made their way on foot through an industrial estate which seemed to be more empty units than used ones.

Sherlock kept his torch low, giving them just enough light to find their way without being visible. Every so often he would stop and check their position looking towards the lights in the distance that he'd seen on that picture, assessing their position in relation to them until they finally stood in front of a unit which looked, to John, as though it hadn't been used in years. There was grass and glass and debris littering the outskirts of the building and the fabric of the building itself was in disrepair with faded, flaking paintwork and broken windows.

John stood watch as Sherlock tried the door, breathing a sigh of relief as it opened easily.

'The lock's been broken recently...but not by homeless people and no one would break in to try to steal anything. It looks like this is our building John. Stay quiet.'

Sherlock's voice didn't rise above a whisper as the two men silently made their way into the derelict building.

John already knew from things Sherlock had said in the taxi that they were looking for an upstairs room so they made their way straight to the stairwell. Their footsteps seemed loud in the empty space and the rubbish that they disturbed didn't help; it made John wince internally every time his foot knocked against something or a piece of detritus tumbled down the stairs in their wake. John had no idea how Sherlock seemed to move so quietly, it was a skill he hadn't yet mastered.

As they reached the first floor Sherlock held out his hand to stop their progress and his small penlight lit up the first couple of steps to the top level.

John looked down and saw what had caught Sherlock's attention and noticed a couple of spots of blood on the first and fourth step.

Sherlock put a finger to his lips and then pointed up the stairs.

The stillness of an imminent battle seemed to spread over John like a familiar comfort blanket. His senses seemed to be hyper aware and his hand automatically went to the pocket of his jacket feeling the familiar cool metal of his gun grip.

As they made it to the last floor they saw more blood spots near the door to their left and that was where they made their way.

At the door Sherlock held up his hand to still John as he pressed his ear to it, listening. He frowned but then waved John forward as his hand went to the door handle. John could only hear his own heart beat echoing in his head as Sherlock slowly opened the door but then he saw his friend's stance relax as the doorway revealed an empty room.

They made their way in and over to the sole chair stood empty in the middle of the large open space.

Sherlock's torch swung back and forth as he swept the rest of the room even as he made his way over to the chair that Molly had been photographed in only a couple of hours before.

Sherlock bent to exam the broken cable ties, the small pool of blood and the body of the chair itself. He smiled for a brief moment as his picked up something small and plastic off the ground and John felt confused but then he found himself running after Sherlock, back out and down the stairs.

'Come on John there's no time to lose.'

'I don't understand, what are we doing?'

'We're following Molly. I was a fool, the blood spots weren't going up, they were coming down. She's managed to escape and from the freshness of the blood not long since.'

He pushed open a door on the first floor and then made his way over to the open window.

Without even explaining to John he pulled himself over the sill and dropped lightly to the ground below.

John stuck his head through the window and looked at the drop before swearing. He'd never had a head for heights and he had an image of himself breaking his ankle. So instead he pushed away and made his way the long way round through the building.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly had nowhere to hide and no ability to run so instead she shrank back against the wall of the warehouse that she had been circling, hoping to hide herself in the shadows. Her hands tightened around the metal pipe and she cursed herself for losing the scalpel when she fell from the window.

Her heart felt as though it would beat out of her chest and give away her position and she had to resist the urge to instead wrap her hands around her body to try to hold herself together.

She looked back to the direction she had just come from and she could distinctly make out the tall figure of a man making his way towards her, shining a torch at the ground in front of him. For a moment her heart sank in her chest but then it gave way to a dawning sense of recognition. She still didn't dare make any move though in case her mind was playing tricks on her.

It was only when she heard that low, familiar baritone softly calling her name that she truly allowed herself to give in to hope.

'Sh...Sherlock?'

She was surprised by how weak her voice sounded and she wondered if he would even have heard her but his response was immediate. The torch swung in her direction blinding her momentarily until he adjusted the angle and then he was with her, crouching next to her, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her to him.

She fell into his embrace letting the first sob of relief escape from her body feeling the warmth of him enveloping her as she pressed her face against his chest, hearing the reassuring thud of his heart beat, as her arms went around his body so she could hold him tight.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock had no words to describe the feeling of relief at finally having Molly back and safe in his arms. He allowed himself a moment to just hold her close to him, hearing her soft cries and feeling the living, breathing reality of her. It was as though he could exhale for the first time since he'd realised she was missing.

It wasn't long though before he realised just how cold she was and how quickly she was likely to go into post traumatic shock.

He forced himself to pull away from her so he could remove his Belstaff and wrap it around her bare shoulders in a bid to keep her warm.

He had texted Lestrade as they had arrived on the estate and he calculated that the police and ambulance service would arrive in another two minutes. John should be here to check on Molly any second. He frowned, wondering why he wasn't there already and just as he looked round he heard the gun shot over by the warehouse he had just vacated,

It was John's gun and the subsequent yell of pain which followed was not John's voice and Sherlock quickly deduced that Peter Michael's had returned to the scene and had been tackled by a more than capable John. If he had been with anyone else other than Molly he would have left them to go and check but he wasn't and he had no intention of leaving Molly's side until they were safely back in Baker St, and maybe not even then.

Instead he put one arm under Molly's shoulders and the other under her legs and he stood, carrying her in his arms. She squeaked in surprise initially before burrowing herself deeper into his coat, her hands clutching at his shirt in a bid to get closer to him. He understood her need for closeness; he never, ever wanted to be this near to her death again. It was the second time in six months that he had had to endure it and he swore it would be the last.

As they emerged around the side of the warehouse Sherlock could see John, lit by the moon, standing over a sobbing Michaels, his gun still trained on the killer. He was glad in that moment that it was John with the gun as he wasn't sure he would have had any shade of mercy within him to leave that man alive...not after what he had put Molly through.

At the same time he heard the approach of multiple vehicles, blue lights starting to flash in the distance.

He looked down at Molly, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, the signs on her face that she had been hurt and he wished he could erase all the fear and pain. Instead all he could do was lift her just enough that he could press his lips to her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I was never going to let anything really bad happen to Molly, Sherlock would never forgive me how would he...and I'm suspecting you lot wouldn't have either :). Am I right or am I right?


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back from my London trip and I had an amazing time. The weather was perfect, I did lots of sightseeing and drinking with my friend and the icing on the cake was not only seeing Andrew Scott in Hamlet but meeting him after for an autograph and selfie. He was so, so friendly and chatty and generally lovely and un-Moriarty like.
> 
> The only blot on the landscape is hearing that I missed Benedict by 48 hours as he apparently went last night...wahhhhhh. Anyway, if you want to see my pictures of Andrew check out my tumblr under the same name as here. PS he took the selfies as I was getting in a muddle :D.

It was twelve hours later before Sherlock was escorting a tired and bandaged Molly back to his flat. He had spent that time making sure Molly's injuries weren't more than he had initially deduced and sitting with her, seething silently, as he listened to her giving her statement to Greg.

'I don't remember how he took me, I just remember coming to. I must have been drugged and when I regained consciousness I was tied to a chair. He...he threatened me...and hit me...just once.'

She had glanced nervously at Sherlock as she said this and he had had to take a deep breath knowing what those threats had probably entailed. He had already gently asked her whether he had forced himself on her but even though she had replied in the negative he couldn't help but think about what could have happened if they hadn't got there in time or if Molly had been recaptured.

'I was lucky; he received a text and had to leave. If he hadn't, well...I don't know what would have happened.'

It was Greg who spoke up. 'Oh, that wasn't luck that was Sherlock.'

Molly looked at Greg in confusion and then turned to Sherlock for an explanation.

Sherlock shrugged. 'One of my lines of enquiry was tracking down Michael's English born mother. I knew she had moved back here. Anyway she wasn't hard to find. She'd been assaulted a few months after his return, taken a beating which had resulted in a serious brain injury. No one was ever convicted but it's not a huge leap to assume it was Peter who committed the attack. I'm sure he meant to kill her but at the last moment couldn't follow through with it. Anyway, she has been in a care home just outside Hampstead ever since.'

'And...' Molly was leaning forwards as she listened.

'When you went missing I had Greg go to the home and talk to the staff. I needed to give us as much time as possible to find you unhurt so I calculated how long you might be unconscious if drugged and then asked Greg to make sure the nursing staff contacted Michael's with some tale about his mother.'

Greg chipped in. 'They texted him to say she'd had a bad fall and he needed to visit. From what we can gather he set off but then changed his mind...we'd hoped to pick him up if he turned up at the care home.'

Sherlock came back in. 'He must have realised it was a trap and circled back. Luckily he bumped into John coming out of the warehouse. They fought before John disabled him with a shot to his leg.'

Greg nodded. 'Is that how he ended up with a broken nose and jaw then? Only John didn't mention them fighting.'

Sherlock flexed a bruised hand held at his side away from Greg's eye line and Molly tried to hide a smile. 'Yes, it must be.'

Eventually Greg had everything he needed for now and Molly had a last check up from her doctors before finally being released.

As he helped her up the stairs into his flat she knew that she was at breaking point. She had tried to be so strong and brave but she had feared that she would never see this place again, never be with Sherlock again and to now be here and with him was overwhelming her.

He must have sensed how vulnerable she was because, just as he had back at the warehouses, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he carried her the rest of the way to his bedroom.

She buried her face in his chest and tried to hold back the tears but it was no good and she clung to him as she wept; weeping for what had happened to all those other women and weeping for what could have so easily happened to her.

Sherlock didn't say a word throughout, instead he just sat on the edge of his bed with Molly on his lap holding her close and kissing the top of her head.

When she finally fell quiet he removed his coat and passed her one of his t shirts so she could change for bed. She found she was so tired she could barely move and he even had to help her to put the shirt on before settling her under the covers. She wanted to ask him to join her but he just tucked her in, gave her one final kiss on her forehead before leaving her to sleep.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

For once Sherlock was exhausted himself but he needed some separation and so he left Molly alone before going to lie down on the settee. It was a replacement for the one that had been destroyed in the explosion in Baker St and although it was similar enough in looks it just wasn't as comfy as his old one had been.

He threw himself down and closed his eyes and dwelt on everything that had happened to himself and Molly over the last few days. It seemed hard to believe that it was less than a week since he had admitted his feelings to Molly and embarked on a relationship with her and now here he was trying to decide whether he should let her go.

He blamed himself for everything that had happened to her, not just that week but over the last five years. Not only had she been targeted by Michael's because of him, but by Moriarty and by Eurus. She had been lucky so far that none of those encounters had killed her but how many more times would they be that lucky. He should let her go, not only that he should make her move away, or at least work somewhere where they wouldn't be connected.

The trouble was each time he considered it it felt as though a vice were squeezing on his heart, he even found himself curling onto his side holding himself together from the pain of it. If he had ever doubted that he loved Molly Hooper those doubts were long gone. And Mycroft was right, there was no advantage in this, caring for Molly would put her at risk, would test his ability to keep her safe...it would compromise his whole world.

But he had no choice, he had always thought he was a strong man but his love for Molly was the exception. When it came to her he was weak and even though he knew he should let her go he couldn't...he wouldn't. He also couldn't imagine her actually agreeing to it. She'd probably slap him and tell him to grow up and let her make her own decisions and she would be right...this would never be his decision alone to make.

So there it was...he loved her, he probably always had but now at least he knew it and accepted it. The only thing left to do would be to tell Molly...except this time he'd make sure that she knew he was telling the truth, there would be no deception, no ticking time bomb...just him and Molly and it always would be from this point on.

He sat back up and ran his hands through his hair letting his body give in to the tiredness.

Five minutes later and he was sliding under the cover of his bed, feeling the warmth of Molly's body as he wrapped himself around her, listening to her steady breathing as sleep finally sucked him under.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He wasn't sure how long they had slept for but he started to waken when he felt Molly stretching at the side of him before pressing her back up against his chest, wiggling her bum against the erection that he hadn't realised he had up until that moment. He let out an involuntary groan and wrapped his arm around her slim waist pulling her tighter against him relishing the feel of her body rubbing against his own.

He still hadn't bothered to open his eyes, instead he just enjoyed letting his mind concentrate on the physical, feeling how warm she was, how turned on he felt. He let his hand slide under the fabric of the t shirt that she was wearing noting the flatness of her stomach and how soft and smooth her skin was compared to his own.

She seemed to arch into his touch as his fingers brushed the soft underside of her breasts and the low moan she let out gave him the confidence that what they were about to do was something she wanted as well. He had wondered briefly whether his touch would be welcome considering what Michael's had threatened to do to her.

Their movements were slow and sensual; it seemed to Sherlock to have a dream like quality to it, as though he wasn't yet fully awake. He felt every slip and slide of his skin against hers and heard every slight moan and hum of delight and desire that she made and it all just made him want her more than he ever had before.

He remembered his decision from the night before, his acknowledgment that he loved her and he wondered if it was that which made what they were doing feel so much more emotional and real.

His fingers moved across her breast feeling the weight of it in his hand, his thumb sliding over the already hardened nipple and his mouth started to water at the thought of tasting her, feeling it against his tongue.

They turned as one and without needing words Molly pulled the shirt over her head and discarded it on the floor somewhere. He could hear the whisper of skin against skin as he moved over her, finally looking down into those big, brown eyes; eyes that had always seen him, always seeming to see through to his very soul.

He bent his head to hers finally feeling her lips moving against his own. It felt like it had been weeks rather than a couple of days since they had been together. He loved feeling her under him, her breasts mashed against his chest, her hands on the curve of his backside pulling him against her. He could feel her legs parted to accommodate him and there was a big part of him that just wanted to thrust into her; burying himself in her warmth but he held back. He wanted more, he wanted to explore her, taste her, feel her as she came against his face.

His hand moved to her throat and he could feel her pulse beating strong and steady under his palm, reassuring him of her continued survival and existence.

Her tongue was sliding against his and she was swallowing his groans as his hips moved against hers seeking friction. He could feel the end if his hardened cock nudging against her entrance and it was hypnotic and deeply arousing to hold back and let the anticipation build even as she moaned and clawed at his skin trying to pull him into her.

Instead he moved his lips to the skin along her jaw, breathing her in as he placed light kisses across to her ear, biting and nibbling at her lobe.

Then slowly but surely he let his hand slide lower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we'll leave it there for now. How mean am I? Anyway, we're almost at the final chapter which I shall post sometime in the week for you all. Until then, have fun and enjoy the rest of the weekend xxx


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter final chapter for you, finishing off the last part of the story. Thank you so much for all your support and reviews and likes, I love knowing how much you've been enjoying it...it gives me encouragement to write more and I am writing more :).

Molly wasn't quite sure what was different about them being together but there was definitely something. Everything felt slower, more sensual and intimate than it had felt when they'd made love in those hotel rooms. She didn't know if it was her close shave with death or being in Sherlock's home and bed but she felt very emotional as well as aroused.

Sherlock seemed to be doing his utmost to drive her to distraction with desire as he moved painfully slowly over her body kissing and touching every inch of her until she felt giddy and desperate for some kind of release.

When his mouth had finally closed over her overly sensitive breast she couldn't help but let out a loud moan followed by a more breathy 'oh god...please..'

His hand was between her thighs with his fingers sliding over her wetness, rubbing against her clit and making her mewl before she tilted her hips trying to make him move lower.

She could feel his erection hard against her inner thigh, rubbing against the skin and she wanted to feel some part of him inside her, she needed it, her mind was whirling with sensation and all of it was needy and desperate.

He used his tongue and his teeth to worry at her nipple and every tug of his mouth, every bite made her core clench and release.

Finally he let his fingers move from her clit until he pushed into her. She knew that by now she must be slick and ready for him, his hand moved easily back and forth as he started to bring her to a climax. Her eyes were squeezed tight and all she could think about was how and where he was touching her.

She thought she would come like this before he'd even fully entered her but just as she thought she'd reached the point of no return he withdrew his hand and she let out a gasp and a cry at the loss only to press her head back into the pillows as his mouth moved lower.

She was swearing now and calling his name, uncaring as to whether anyone could hear them. They could have had an audience at that moment and Molly wouldn't have cared, all she could think of was what her body needed and her body needed Sherlock.

As his mouth closed over her clit she jolted, her quim twitching and clenching and she wondered if she would come without him needing to do more, but then she felt his tongue stroking her, drinking her, lapping against her and all she could do was hold on to his curls as she ground herself shamelessly against his face.

The final straw was when she felt his tongue entering her as his thumb found her clit and pressed against it moving in slow circles.

She cried out as she came, feeling wave after wave of pure bliss washing over her. She was vaguely aware that she was probably holding on to Sherlock too tight but he didn't seem to be in discomfort or protesting, instead she could feel his groans against her core and she knew he was finding the experience a turn on.

It felt like a while before coherent thought returned to her mind and when it did Sherlock was knelt up in front of her with something of a smug smile on his face which she couldn't help but return. He was also lazily tugging on his cock and Molly could see the head glistening with pre cum and it had her biting her lip and wanting to taste him.

She started to sit up but Sherlock shook his head, smiling at her wickedly. 'Don't even thing it, I wouldn't last and I'm still looking forward to being inside you.'

He moved forwards until he was lying on her able to kiss her once more and his kiss was open mouthed and desperate; his tongue tangling with hers as his cock nudged against her.

This time when she opened her thighs to him he didn't wait, he just reached down and positioned himself before pushing in and filling her quickly making her gasp at the welcome intrusion. Her hands grappled with the skin on his back wanting to be as close and connected to him as possible.

Slowly but surely his body moved against hers. He angled himself perfectly so he could stimulate her clit as well as hit that perfect spot inside her which had her crying out for more feeling another orgasm starting to build faster than the last. Every part of her body seemed to be alive with feeling but by far the best part was hearing the grunts and groans of Sherlock as he moved above her chasing his own pleasure; a pleasure that it seemed only she could bring him. She felt overwhelmed with emotion even as she felt her walls convulsing around him; her nails digging into the skin of his backside.

She felt his body shudder and his movements grow ragged and a moment later he came, pressing into her as far as he could, nature and physical need taking over from the cerebral.

By the time he sagged against her they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat and breathing heavily.

Sherlock moved off her rolling to one side but left his hand covering her heart and Molly knew he was probably feeling and assessing her heart rate...it was such a Sherlock thing to do and it made her smile briefly.

He leant up on one elbow and looked down at her before bending to press a brief kiss to her lips. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and Molly couldn't help but feel a slight tug of nerves. She was worried that this whole kidnapping incident was going to have Sherlock running for the hills, deciding that she would be safer without him rather than with him and, if she were honest, the thought of him doing that terrified her.

It didn't stop her confronting it head on though. 'Penny for your thoughts.'

She smiled as she said it and used her fingers to brush a curl off his forehead. He was so beautiful like this and it made her stomach swoop. She wanted to see him like this every day, wanted to be this close and intimate with him so much it hurt.

'Molly, I need to tell you something but...well, you know me, I'm not very good with emotions.'

He paused and looked off into a corner of the darkened bedroom as he decided on his choice of words. Molly found she was holding her breath and already preparing arguments in her head as to why they shouldn't separate.

'I needed to think last night. Once again your safety was compromised because of me and your association with me.'

She opened her mouth to speak but he put a finger across her lips. 'No, let me finish first.'

'I thought through all the options and I know that the best...the safest option for you would be to dis-associate yourself with me...to be as far away from me as possible.'

Molly bit her lip feeling as though all her worst nightmares were coming true. Her heart was thudding in her chest now and it had nothing to do with the sex they'd just had and everything to do with fear.

'I know absolutely it's the best thing for you and if you decide to leave me I won't try and stop you, I'll do my best to let you go...but Molly, I'm selfish and weak and I can't be the one to let go. I thought about that phone call all those months ago, when Eurus was testing me and playing her evil games and she knew...even then, having not known me for very long she knew what I didn't.'

He looked Molly direct in the eye before saying his next words and Molly felt as though they would be the most important, vital words that she would ever hear in her life.

'I love you Molly Hooper. I love you. I knew it was true when I told you during that phone call but I didn't know what to do with that information...not then, I was a mess, an emotional wreck. But now, having nearly lost you...' he stopped having to take a deep breath. 'Now I understand what those words mean and what I want. I love you and I want to be with you, to keep you safe and try to make you happy.'

He let out a quick chuckle at that last line and dipped his head almost shyly. 'OK, so I'll probably be rubbish at that. I'm too self-centered and get too distracted with cases, but let it not be said that you don't know what you're getting with me because you've seen me at my worst.'

Molly brought her hand up to his face and cradled his cheek. 'Yes, and I've seen you at your best as well and you are the most amazing, beautiful and caring man that I have ever known, you just hide it well. And Sherlock...I love you too, I always have and I always will no matter what happens and I want and need to be with you as well.'

This time when they kissed there was a lightness and a relief in them both being absolutely on the same page with each other. They smiled, they giggled and they kissed and Molly knew she had never felt happier. She had finally caught the man of her dreams and she was ready to start their life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright it was a corny last line but for the non-writers out there you have no idea how hard it is to come up with a final line. Those that do write...well, you know my pain don't you! Please, please let me know what you have thought about this fic, you know I love to hear it.
> 
> I'm also aiming to be back in a bit with the start of a new story, so keep your eyes peeled and join me on the next Sherlolly adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> So Sherlock is ignoring the obvious and trying to pretend his feelings didn't happen. Well, we can't make it too easy can we...I still love a slow burn :)


End file.
